


Kings Union Vol. III

by Cazio, TheJotunPoleDancer



Series: The Kings Series [3]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 201,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26563099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cazio/pseuds/Cazio, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJotunPoleDancer/pseuds/TheJotunPoleDancer
Summary: After a fallout that nearly tears the union apart, Laurent must prove his love is genuine and Damen has to be convinced to believe him. Some wounds are too deep to heal.Roleplay format, updates every Sunday.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Lazar/Pallas (Captive Prince)
Series: The Kings Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739758
Comments: 97
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is an archive of something we do for fun. things like characterizations, plotlines, etc are fluid and will be molded and shaped through our RP, and while we will try to edit major mistakes we see before posting, consider this “raw writing.” there will be OC’s and probably some book things forgotten in the course of it all. occasionally when one character is out of commission (ie. knocked out, captive, otherwise outside of the story) the other person will pick up other characters to continue the story until Damen/Laurent returns.
> 
> tags/warning will be edited as they arise, but just a heads up for everyone, we usually have a lot of angst but plenty of fluff too. and we can promise that Laurent and Damen will survive all of the turmoil, try as we might to destroy their lives in other ways. We intend not to do anything worse than anything that’s happened already in the books, but no guarantees.
> 
> We are not looking for constructive criticism on our writing. We’re just here to have some fun and share the Lamen love.
> 
> Laurent = thejotunpoledancer  
> Damen = cazio
> 
> If you're just starting, it'd probably be a good idea to read Volumes 1 & 2 first!

Laurent warmed to being touched again pretty quickly, even leaned towards Damen a few times in a fond little bump as he fell back into something much more comfortable. He’s almost lost this, sacrificed it for some sort of closure. Whatever Fynn had said, Laurent would not be able to thank him enough.

He listened to Lucien and Fynn’s conversation for a while, making sure it was going well, and only turned away from it when Damen moved from his thigh to his hand, and then—

They were leaving?

Laurent stood as Damen did, tall and proud, but only hesitated for a moment to look down at Lucien. There was a short silence, but Lucien had the sense to nod, to assure Laurent he would be fine if they left. He knew his way around after all.

Laurent’s second glance went to Fynn - another silent thanks that he would voice soon. They would talk; Laurent just needed to smooth things over with Damen on his own accord first.

So he stepped around his seat and followed Damen out the door, waiting until they had cleared into the hallway to speak.

“You were worried about that, I think,” Laurent teased softly as they walked, “About dinner? I would say it went much better than it has all week.”

* * *

Thankfully, Laurent didn’t hesitate. Damen had forgotten about Lucien being a guest—probably because he was so used to his presence—but Lucien proved his good nature with his nod, allowing Damen to start all sorts of rumors as he escorted Laurent from the dining hall.

Fynn gave Laurent a small smile in return to his look. He’d figured out that Lucien was a pet, and commended Lauren’s devotion to the rights of pets—rights Kempt admittedly did not have. Yet. He had a feeling they would be coming soon if Vere was to unite with them.

Out in the corridor, Damen didn’t reply right away as Laurent spoke. He had to admit that dinner had gone better than expected. Perhaps Vere was becoming more accepting of Akielos after all.

But Damen wasn’t concerned about hat.

The moment they turned the corner to be out of sight of the servants scuttling around with plates, Damen pounced. He pressed Laurent to the wall and kissed him, passionate and simmering. His fingers curled in Laurent’s blond hair, while his free hand just /had/ to wander down again, this time between Laurent’s legs, but not yet giving attention to his cock.

He really was useless against that chiton.

* * *

Laurent knew how Damen reacted around chitons. He had long since been used to Damen’s physicality and the way it always seemed to spike the moment Laurent was in anything but his usual attire, yet all the same, this shocked him. He startled at the kiss with a little sound, but he fell into it soon enough.

“I should have put this on sooner,” Laurent murmured to Damen, fingers running through Damen’ short hair, looking for something to grab at. He found it soon enough and worked his fingers in a little massaging motion with a soft smile.

A servant walked by with quickened steps when she realised what was happening here and between who it was happening. Laurent watched her go from his vantage point against the wall and laughed before pulling Damen down for another quick kiss.

Laurent was overwhelmed with the knowledge that he did not deserve this treatment now, but he also knew how Damen thought and worked. If this was something they both wanted, why deny it? They could talk it out later if they needed to.

* * *

“I don’t think that would have been wise,” Damen murmured, his mouth on Laurent’s neck. His mouth found the exposed part of Laurent’s collarbone, and somehow it seemed more desirable now than when he was naked. Chitons on Laurent were a truly beautiful thing.

He heard the servant and stilled for a moment, but then Laurent was kissing him. Damen continued it, pressing his tongue past Laurent’s lips to taste him again, just as his body was flush against his, remembering the way they fit together so nicely.

“Let’s find somewhere,” Damen urged breathlessly, his hand moving now to feel the curve of Laurent’s ass—he was far too exposed in this chiton. “I don’t care if we end up in the stables, I must have you.”

Even if his mind and heart weren’t fully on board with forgiveness, his cock certainly was.

* * *

The stables were closer than their chambers at this point, but Laurent did not need Damen freezing himself in this act, so he took Damen’s hand and led him just down the hallway to the pantries. Laurent obviously did not know this part of the palace well, but on the third door he opened, he found a relatively empty pantry where it seemed /some/ creativity would be needed.

“Well,” Laurent murmured with a cocked head,  
really only noting the windowsill and a singular wooden bench in the room. The walls were rough cut stone, not meant to be /seen/ by anyone but those servants who needed to gather supplies.

It was not ideal, but surely it was better than the stables.

“We’ve ended up.../somewhere/,” Laurent offered lamely.

* * *

Damen followed Lauren into a small room that wasn’t exactly set up for what they planned to to. The walls were rough, the bench was narrow, and there was only a windowsill for other seating. Damen had made love in more barren places, but they had no oil here. Men were not so lucky in the bedroom, he lamented.

“Somewhere is enough,” Damen murmured, winding his arms around Laurent from behind. The window provided a nice view of the city beyond, torchlights glowing in the darkness.

“I don’t suppose there is any oil on the shelves,” Damen hummed, nibbling at Laurent’s ear. “So we are cursed to our mouths again.” He kissed the side of Laurent’s head, not yet wiling to let go of him. It had been too long since they were with each other like this—he didn’t want to lose it.

“I’ll have to send you out with your hair so in place, your skin not flushed. There will be no good rumors from that."

* * *

“Unfortunately, I believe this is the dry storage,” Laurent chuckled, and he would have genuinely been disappointed if he knew there were not other ways to seek pleasure from one another - ways Damen has helped Laurent see as pleasurable again.

Laurent held Damen’s arms around him as he looked out over Arles - what he could see of it in the dark anyway. He nearly made a joke about the ant-sized commoners being able to see them, just to see how Damen might react, but he did not. He just turned for a little kiss before once more looking out over what would soon be /their/ kingdom.

If they kept this up properly.

“Cursed?” Laurent did ask, turning in Damen’s arms with a face of judgement, feigned and over the top. “Has it been so long you forgot my talents, or have you just said that to hurt me?” He grinned as he thumbed at Damen’s cheekbone.

* * *

One day this would be part of their kingdom. Assuming something else didn’t come out of the woodwork that ruined their union. Damen still wanted a few days to think about this, and now that conversation of an heir was at play, he did want to see what he could make of it.

Instead of responding to Laurent’s question, Damen simply kissed him.

“I had hoped to take you properly,” he amended, leaning into his touch. “I miss the way it feels to be inside you, the way you sound.”

He kissed Laurent’s forehead and pulled him to his chest. Squeezing Laurent into him wasn’t a good idea, but he would be willing to risk it just to have him near again.

“I would rather do something mutual, to pleasure both of us instead of trading off."

* * *

“Alternatively,” Laurent offered, not one to look ungrateful or uninvested in this now. He knew he was not always the one to initiate or to show desire as Damen did, and this was an excellent time to change that. Yes, he was a bit caught in the moment as he was pressed so tightly against Damen, but he could make do.

He settled his hands on Damen’s hips, rubbed his thumbs over his hipbones through the fabric of his chiton.

“You can enjoy while I pleasure you here,” Laurent offered, “and we can delay the mutual act just long enough for us to return to our chambers.” Laurent obviously wouldn’t mind that, and giving Damen extra attention now felt called for. “Then we will have all the oil we could need.”

* * *

Damen released his hold just enough for Laurent to move, and let out a hum of appreciation when he felt Laurent’s thumbs at his hips. Just a few years ago, the thought of this moment would have either made him spitting mad or would have made him laugh at the absurdity of Laurent in a chiton. A few years ago he never would have hoped for a moment like this. He had thought Laurent cruel and cold.

He as very glad to know different now.

“Is that what you want or are you trying to appease me?” Damen asked gently, his hands moving up to frame Lauent’s face. “This isn’t a time to discuss our disagreements—but I never…I’m not…I’m not needy enough to put your comfort over mine in a case like this.”

Pleasuring him would be Laurent’s choice, if he wanted it. Damen certainly didn’t want him to feel as though he needed to do this to somehow ease the difficult discussions they would have later.

“I would enjoy it very much,” he added with a soft kiss. “But only if you’re enjoying it as well."

* * *

Again, Laurent was overtly aware that he did not deserve this kindness right now. It was not as if he thought he deserved to be ravaged against his will or anything like that, but he knew he did not deserve Damen, here, caring so wholeheartedly for him after how they had been just last night. Laurent had to smile, and just to drive things home, slide his hand up Damen’s thigh and under his chiton.

“I do not offer things I do not want to do,” Laurent reminded Damen as he always did when such a question was asked. “And do trust that I will enjoy it.”

The act itself wasn’t all the enjoyable to Laurent, but what it did to Damen made it worth it. It was something of a power move, to undo Damen as he could, but it was not for some fantasy of overthrowing Damen or anything like that. It was just to see himself be able to drive a man, a /king/, absolutely mad for him, to take someone with such a prowess as Damen and to turn it on him.

Laurent /did/ enjoy that, and if he had to suck a cock to get it, he would.

That being said, Laurent would not be kneeling on this floor.

“Lie on the bench?” Laurent asked of Damen, thinking this not the time to go barking orders.

* * *

Damen started when Laurent’s hand slid up his thigh, but then he was grinning breathlessly. He knew he asked thing like this too much, but he still had trouble grasping that Laurent wanted these things with him. A made who didn’t seem the least bit interested in sex was all too eager to give him pleasure. It felt wrong in some respects, like he had manipulated Laurent in some way, but Damen was thankful for it. He didn’t know how he would be able to manage if Laurent never wanted sex again.

He cocked a brow. “I’m not going to fit very well,” he chuckled, but with a kiss to Laurent’s mouth he wandered to the bench and sat on it before reclining back onto the wood.

Damen was far too tall for it, and the whole bench threatened to topple when he adjusted himself.

“You’re sure you want to do it this way?” Damen laughed, braving himself with his hands.

“I hope you have a good plan.”

* * *

Laurent rolled his eyes as he watched Damen try to adjust himself on the bench, and had Damen’s topping over been dependent on Laurent catching the bench, he would have been flat on his ass on the stone beneath. Laurent was much too busy laughing.

He made his way over and, with what strength he could muster - and absolutely no regard for Damen’s ass - he grabbed his betrothed by the ankle and pulled him down in the bench before parting his legs and throwing them on either side.

“Sit or lie down, it’s up to you,” Laurent said as he straddled the bench facing Damen himself and, in a very graceful and kingly fashion, tied what hair he could back out of his face with a tiny strip of leather.

This wouldn’t be /comfortable/ per se, but Laurent was lean and flexible. He could bend over in what room he had and do this with what room he had.

But that meant he was going to use his hands for as long as he could before he had to bend over.

* * *

Damen very much appreciated Laurent’s manhandling. He often forgot the strength behind Laurent’s lithe frame, and liked to be reminded. He grinned at the suggestion—though it was more of an order for him.

“I’d like to sit, I think,” Damen decided, sitting up. He watched Laurent tie his hair back, marveling at the fact that /Laurent/ was sitting before him, tying his hair back to suck /his/ cock.

Damen reached forward to curl a finger under Laurent’s chin, tiling his head up to kiss him greedily.

“Do you have another string?” Damen asked between heady kisses. “I think you’ll need to tie my hands.”

He supposed he could sit on his hands, but it would be all to easy to free himself and guide Laurent’s head to take him deeper into his throat.

He smirked. “You’ll ruin another chiton.”

* * *

Damen adjusted himself as he liked while Laurent ran his hands up and down Damen’s strong thighs, just waiting for him to settle so he could move forward with this. The last thing they needed was to take their time in here, give someone the opportunity to waltz in and ruin what Laurent was trying to build here.

“Just the one tie,” Laurent replied, and where it made his stomach flip the tiniest bit, he brushed it off and said just as easily because Laurent felt...safe. He felt right doing this, and he knew there was restraint in Damen yet. How much, however, he might find the limit of today.

And if he did, he would deal with it accordingly.

“We will have to call it a trust exercise,” Laurent said into the kiss, pecking Damen’s lips again as his hand slipped up and under Damen’s chiton and found his cock. Laurent palmed it for a moment before he closed his first around it, gently stroking in a way that would only tease. “Hands back, you take what I give, and nothing more. Understood?”

He did not mind getting a little bossy there.

“When have I ever made a mess doing this?” He asked, lips still against Damen’s as he worked at his betrothed’s sex, readied him with his usual confidence.

* * *

Damen swallowed hard, hoping like hell he’d be able to restrain himself. Restraint had never been one of his strong suits, but he also despised the thought of harming Laurent in any way. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forgive himself if he caused any sort of discomfort to—

“Fuck,” he groaned the moment Laurent’s palm found his cock. His body was completely centering between his legs, eager for more friction, for release. Perhaps it was a good thing that Laurent was doing this before they got to the bedroom, or else Damen would have lasted perhaps two seconds in bed.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he purred in reply, accepting the kiss and pressing his tongue past Laurent’s pink lips. He panted softly into Laurent’s mouth, rocking his hips as best he could into Laurent’s hand. God, he’d missed this. Nothing was half as wonderful as Laurent working to find his release.

He suddenly wondered if it was as good for Laurent. Damen made it no secret that he got aroused from pleasuring Laurent, but…well, he’d always been too distracted to see if Laurent felt the same.

“Does this—“ he sucked in a breath. “Does this fill you with desire?” he asked, gripping Laurent’s muscled thighs. “When you do this to me?"

* * *

Laurent wouldn’t consider himself too busy to have a conversation, but he did make Damen wait for a response. He honestly could not believe they were having a conversation right now. Laurent still could not fathom how he had ended up here, with Damen, with Damen /acknowledging/ that he was with Laurent, with Damen /confirming Laurent was enjoying himself/.

Damen almost received Laurent’s usual nonchalance in, ‘I would not do it if I did not enjoy it,’ but that was clearly not what Damen was after. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

Before Laurent responded, he took a moment to oh-so-elegantly spit into his palm, gifting Damen with a tighter grip and a better glide.

“It does,” he confirmed for Damen with a smile, wrist pumping in time. He had no doubts he could undo Damen like this alone, but why give him something so poor as a hand job when he had already promised his mouth.

“I like to watch you,” Laurent told him, “I like to see you fall apart for a man you’ve likened to a virgin so many times. And I like having you like this. I like to see you drop your guard, your strength, and your inhibition all for me.”

“More than that,” Laurent started with an uptick in his voice, stilling his hand for the moment at the base of Damen’s cock, squeezing rhythmically as he adjusted his own body on the bench. “I understand that if /I/ undo /you/, then it is only a matter of time before /you/ undo /me/.”

And Laurent licked his lips and went down on Damen in earnest, knowing he had drawn this out long enough.

* * *

Laurent’s mouth was exquisite. Damen still had that low tone of his voice ringing in his ears, and suddenly his cock was enveloped in the war wetness of Laurent’s mouth. He couldn’t say he’d ever been sucked off in this position before, either. It was incredibly difficult not to grab Laurent’s hair, but he managed it, gripping his chiton instead.

He rocked his hips enough that the bench started to jerk beneath them, helpless to stop as the pleasure tightened in his abdomen, threatening to send him over the edge all too quickly.

“Laurent,” Damen grunted, fisting his chiton. “I’m—“

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before he was cumming. It surprised even Damen, who flushed but didn’t stop grinding his hips to try to milk himself more thoroughly.

Well. That wasn’t exactly how he wanted things to play out, but he started laughing not a moment later. His hand left his chiton to /gently/ card his fingers through Laurent’s hair, letting the color stay on his cheeks.

“I suppose this time I’m the virgin, aren’t I?"

* * *

The bench moving about made things a tad more difficult, but it was not enough to deter Laurent. He relaxed his throat and lips and kept at his work, coupling his mouth with his hand whenever his jaw began to ache. It did not get much of a chance to do so, however. Damen was pretty easy to work over like this - much like he proved to be when they first saw each other over long breaks. Laurent could imagine this week had left Damen all sorts of pent up.

And he was more than happy to help.

Damen was enjoying this, and so too was Laurent. Damen said his name with such abandon, such strength and weakness at the same time, and Laurent melted. He settled his free hand on Damen’s thigh, kept him as still as he could while still allowing him to rock his hips as he needed. He deserved it for showing such restraint.

Good to his word, Laurent did not make a mess of either of their chitons when Damen came, swallowing diligently and leaving behind only themselves as proof of what they had done.

He wiped the corners of his mouth, the redness of his lips perhaps serving as further proof of their actions in here.

“You held off long enough to finish in my mouth,” Laurent grinned as he sat up, and yes, maybe his back popped softly when he did so - he’d had a very lackadaisical week. “I would not call you so virginal. I know better.”

* * *

Though Damen was spent, he could tell that it wouldn’t be for long. Laurent still had clothes to rip off, and before that, he was still wearing his chiton. His lips were maddeningly red, the flush on his cheeks pink and perfect. Damen could have taken him right here in the pantry.

“I will say I’ve never been sucked off in such a position,” Damen chuckled, closing his legs a little and hauling Laurent up into his lap. He was sure to keep him close. “You did wonderfully, as usual.”

He pressed a kiss to those swollen lips, unaffected by the taste of himself lingering there. Then he kissed his way down Laurent’s neck and on to his collarbone, smiling against his pale skin. How he had been blessed with such a beautiful man still amazed him, as did Laurent’s wit and yes, his mouth.

It was hard to remember their anger towards each other in moments like this. Fights seemed so distant.

“I don’t know how I lasted a whole season without you,” Damen murmured. “Each day in Ios was torture."

* * *

And he’d nearly tried to do it again, Laurent wanted to point out. Yes, it had been a provoked action, but Damen had tried to leave him again, despite all those days of torture he professed to. But Laurent just smiled softly and moved to tuck hair behind Damen’s ears that was, admittedly, no longer there.

“I am grateful you stayed,” Laurent did say, using the general time frame. He had asked Damen to stay before their fight, had confessed to needing him here in Arles, and Damen had stayed then...and then again when Laurent had, admittedly, betrayed his trust. “I do so hate to be without you.”

“Now,” Laurent chuckled, pressing another kiss to Damen’s lips. “I am in need of a water and some place that is /slightly/ warmer than this store room.” He had little goosebumps up his arms as the act of their passion subsided and he began to feel the chill in his barely-covering chiton.

“We can continue this by the fire in our chambers, yes?”

* * *

It didn’t escape Damen that he had talked about leaving just a few days ago. Had Laurent truly left him for Fynn, he would have. Ios would have been unbearable, but it would have been worse to stay in Vere, to watch the man he loved with someone else. But each time Laurent asked him to say, he couldn’t find the will to defy him. He was supposed to have returned home by now, but he suspected Nikandros had known he would stay longer. He would have made a comment about blonds.

It was true, though. Damen was helpless against Laurent when he spoke like this, vulnerable and quiet. His heart melted right in his chest.

“I’ll stay whenever you ask,” Damen murmured, meeting Laurent’s kiss. He bundled Laurent a little tighter to him upon hearing he was cold, but after a moment released him and stood, helping Laurent up with him. His legs were a bit weak from…well, that.

“Let’s hurry, then.”

Damen made sure Laurent walked closest to each other torches and braziers on their way back to their chambers, still fearful Laurent might succumb to the cold as he almost had just a few weeks prior. When they arrived at their rooms, Damen instructed Lazar to find a servant to fetch Laurent water and promptly put a thick fur around Laurent’s shoulders, tugging it snug.

“How do you feel?” Damen asked, guiding him to the fire. “Weak? Lethargic? Dizzy?"

* * *

The walk back was at a brisker pace than Laurent anticipated. He was surprised Damen could even move so quickly after what work Laurent had just done, but he supposed Damen valued his lover’s comfort over his own. He was a ridiculous man.

“I feel nothing of the sort,” Laurent assured Damen, still laughing at the fur over his shoulders. He’d been /chilly/, not /freezing/ as Damen liked to immediately jump to. He worried so much for Laurent, he really did. “I feel—“

Water was brought in for him on a fine tray and Laurent, now comfortable next to the fire, took it and finished his sentence with, “Thirsty,” before taking a sip and rinsing his mouth from their little store room scandal. He breathed out with a soft little sound of approval, of content.

He pulled Damen to him, close, and offered him a sip knowing well that he had only transferred the taste of Damen to himself during their kissing earlier. Laurent himself did not mind the taste, but he did not know of Damen’s preferences on that.

“You glow in firelight, do you know that?” Laurent told Damen after a moment, really and truly marvelling hope at him. Having him close again after thinking him gone was affecting Laurent more than he would even like to admit. “You are so handsome.”

* * *

Damen was glad to be reclined by the fire, basking in the warmth of it and the view of Laurent. He watched as the gray was brought to Laurent and found himself uneasy with someone else so close to the love of his life in such a vulnerable state. But then he was being pulled closer, grinning as desire began to flare up in him.

He took a sip when offered, but he barely tasted anything of himself. He watched the way the fire reflected in the water still damp on Laurent’s lips, his own lips parting just slightly at the sight.

The praise made him laugh, simply because he wasn’t used to it from Laurent. “Handsome, mm?”

He leaned away, moving onto his knees. He pulled the cord of his chiton so that it fell from his shoulder to pool at his hips, revealing those piercings Laurent so loved.

“And now?” he asked, looking down at Laurent through his lashes. “What do you think?”

* * *

“Handsome, yes,” Laurent confirmed, curling comfortably onto his suede once the water was placed aside. It was how they should have been sleeping last night, how they should have stayed, face to face, legs intertwined, Laurent able to rest his fingertips against Damen’s warm skin and just idly rub his pinky over Damen’s chest.

On top of being handsome, Damen was very much a furnace, which was /perfect/ here in Arles during the winter. During the summer, in Sicyan, it had been a bit much, but Akielons had much lighter blankets, beds by open windows, thin curtains of silk and linen carrying in the breeze from the ocean. Laurent missed it, could not wait to experience it again.

Laurent rolled from his side to his back so he could take a better look at Damen then, newly bared and towering above Laurent on only his knees. A instant, warm smile crossed Laurent’s lips, and he could not help but reach up, his hand splayed on Damen’s sternum, right between the piercings.

He was so very fond of how they looked on Damen.

“I would almost say you look most desirable,” Laurent teased, curling his hand to scratch ever so lovingly at Damen’s skin. “But I would hate to see that go to your head.”

* * *

Damen seldom saw Laurent like this. Debauched wasn’t the right word, but he did look totally relaxes there among the furs. His touch was gentle, sensuous in a way Damen wanted to draw out. The world was lucky Laurent hadn’t taken a liking to seduction—every foreign official would have been helpless against Vere.

“Most desirable?” Damen hummed, crawling over Laurent until he was on his hands and knees above him. “High praise, even if only in theory.” He moved down to his elbows to press a languid kiss to Laurent’s lips.

He moved back up again and sat back on his heels.

“Would you like to help me out of this chiton?” he offered with a smirk. “Perhaps that will make me more desirable, yes?”

He held Laurent’s gaze, taking the time to search his eyes. Back when he was a slave, he used to star at Laurent quite often, but as King he was usually beside him with fewer chances to look over him properly. He did want to marry Laurent, he knew. He just had to be sure it was best for Akielos.

* * *

Something had definitely found its way back between them, something with the purpose to pull them back together as opposed to keeping them apart. Laurent had feelings rekindling he’d not even remembered - feelings from the tent in Vask, from Ravenel, from when Damen threw that damned sword and saved his life.

Because this all felt just as tentative as it had been back then. It was somehow new again, it was not guaranteed, it left butterflies in Laurent’s stomach, it left him wondering what exactly they were now. And it was not because of their past, as that had all been forgiven, but because of some horribly stupid thing Laurent had done. He’d broken trust, broken promises, broken what they had, and here Damen was.

Still.

Laurent pushed himself up into a half-sitting position and used all the strength he had to keep himself held up as he untied the cord at Damen’s waist. He pulled it away, used his hands to open the fabric that was left—

And then clung to Damen and /pulled/ him down to the ground on top of him, right into a deep kiss that Laurent enjoyed all too much.

* * *

Damen welcomed Laurent’s hand on him, and burst into laughter when he wrapped around him and tugged him down into the furs. He kissed back eagerly, settling between Laurent’s legs and pressing to him as much as he could without smothering his poor lover. His poor lover who was still wearing far too much clothing.

His fingers found their way up Laurent’s chiton as they continued heady kisses until he felt the cord of Laurent’s chiton.

“The wind could have untied this,” he murmured between kisses as he pulled the silk cord to free Laurent’s shoulder from fabric. Then his touch moved lower, taking his sweet time to feel along Laurent’s hips until he found the cord there and tugged it free. It wasn’t difficult for him to reveal Laurent’s body—he had quite a bit of practice removing chitons from other men one-handed.

But he didn’t want to move right into lovemaking. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he even wanted it unless Laurent asked him for it—he was simply basking in Laurent’s warmth and affection, the heat of his mouth and the touch of his skin all around him.

“I’m lost for you,” he murmured as he began to kiss down Laurent’s neck. “Absolutely lost for you."

* * *

“I was forced to tie it myself,” Laurent pointed out, laughing just as much as Damen in that moment. “I’ve only ever had to do it without your help once before.” But the chiton had not fallen and exposed his chest to the Arles, and so the kingdom had remained as stable as ever.

The laughing died down as Damen took to Laurent’s body, leaving him chuckling here and there until he finally went quiet, all focus on Damen. The touch of his lips was warm and welcome, his hands rough and familiar. Laurent was at his most peaceful like this, his most comfortable.

Sometimes, /too/ comfortable, as he could sometimes forget the world around them, the past around them.

“You are not so lost for me,” Laurent murmured fondly, not at all perturbed by his body being on display for Damen in that moment. He spoke with the same confidence as ever. “There is a strength in you I don’t think you acknowledge enough.”

Damen had been willing and able to leave him, Laurent knew that, and looking back at it, even though it hurt, Laurent knew he would have. It would have hurt him, tore him up on the inside, but he would have done it. For his kingdom. Laurent had to admire that, he presumed.

* * *

“I am,” Damen assured him, moving his hands up Laurent’s thigh. “My strength is not enough to withstand you, certainly if you’re trying to keep me.” He could feel Laurent’s skin warming under his lips and breath, and he simply wanted to keep him close, to make sure he stayed in this state of pliant affection.

As much as he would have protected Akielos, he would have likely betrayed his kingdom had Laurent given him a lustful look—even if it was false. Physicality was his weakness, doubled when it came to Laurent.

He moved his lips from Laurent’s collarbone to rest their foreheads together. Their breath mixed, hazy with desire.

“Where do you plan for us to sleep?” he asked, running his fingers up Laurent’s exposed ribs, along the side.

“Here on the furs or in our bed?” He wanted Laurent to sleep comfortably, to prepare for the day they had ahead of them that might very well be painful. He hoped they were past the point of argument, but they always managed to find their way back to it under stress.

He hoped this would be the start of their journey. 

* * *

Laurent let Damen have it, only shook his head softly when he refused his own strength. Laurent knew Damen was not all powerless against him. Laurent had him now, but certainly, he would ruin this again. He was a liar and a traitor and a snake and—

He pulled Damen down for another kiss, smiling into it. There was no need to dwell. They had each other now. Sooner or later, Laurent would need to ask what Fynn said, would need to know what Damen had heard that made him come back.

But that was not for now.

Laurent slid his leg up and around Damen’s keeping him caged in and close, enjoying this slow, sensual bonding of theirs. It felt like a slow smoothing over of the cracks in the foundation of their union, like a reconnected of their hearts. It was as overwhelming as it was perfect, and Laurent was satisfied.

“Let us sleep here,” Laurent murmured, lethargic and docile in this state of attention. He thumbed at Damen’s piercing before letting his hands wander, down, down Damen’s arm where Laurent played at his cuff for a moment. He lofted Damen’s hand, kissed just above his wrist, his palm—

And then he pressed a phial of oil into Damen’s hand and closed his fingers around it, kissed his closed fist, and looked up at Damen with an innocent expectance.

He knew what he wanted.

* * *

Finally, they were making progress. Damen had needed to get Laurent alone, away from responsibility and prying eyes, and honestly away from their chambers for a moment. Because now things felt as they had long ago when Damen had first felt the stirrings of desire for a then-prince.

He watched with interest as Laurent took his hand and kissed it, fascinated by the ease in which Laurent took control and how he conveyed his thoughts without saying a word. He took the oil but allowed Laurent to close his fingers, heat pooling between his legs at just that little action.

Damen didn’t hesitate. He leaned back to open the phial, pouring cool oil into his hands. Then he warmed it in his palms until it was ready, then slicked his fingers. The fire crackled in the hearth behind him as Damen teased his index finger at Laurent’s entrance, just a few strokes before he pushed two fingers inside.

The skill of his fingers wasn’t open explored with Laurent, simply because Damen rather enjoyed burying his cock in him instead, but this time he moved with languid strokes, gentle but still with heat. His mouth latched to a spot just behind Laurent’s jaw, sucking there as he pushed his fingers slightly deeper and turned his wrist.

Laurent would come apart slowly, he would see to it.

* * *

With the rush Damen had been in earlier, Laurent had hardly foreseen himself getting such slow and gentle attention. He absolutely preened under it, blushed warm all over as he held Damen to him and just felt him in and around his body. Intimacy had always been their strength, even outside of sex. These quiet moments had always been best for them.

And Laurent had clearly begun to feel comfortable in them.

His breaths were soft, his moans ultimately only small little sounds of pleasure. Laurent looked into Damen’s eyes when he could, and when he couldn’t, it was because he had slipped his own eyes shut, fallen to just the sensation of Damen’s talented hands.

“I often forget that your fingers are also proportionate to your size everywhere else,” Laurent attempted at a tease, his brows ticked as he was pleasured. “I—thank you for the reminder.”

* * *

Laurent’s eyes were so captivating that many in Vere were afraid to look at them. Or perhaps that was just because Laurent wasn’t afraid to cut a man down just for meeting his eye. Damen had always been drawn to them, even when he hated Laurent. His attractiveness had penetrated even that.

Now, though, Laurent was every man’s dream inbed. Making soft sounds of pleasure, overcome with it, languid and loving in it. Thankfully Damen had already been pleasured once, or he would not have been able to continue such a slow and thorough pace, nor would he have had the patience to wait for those soft words of praise.

“I had thought you had forgotten,” Damen teased, hooking his fingers yet again. He worked up his pace a little more, but made it noticeable he was holding back, especially with not adding a third finger. He wanted to leave Laurent wanting, so he could give more when it was time.

It didn’t take long. A minute moer of pleasure and Damen pulled out, slicking himself with more oil before taking his cock in hand and guiding the head to Laurent’s entrance. His breath hitched as he finally pushed inside, and adjusted himself on the furs for a better angle. He took his time to sheath his length into Laurent, thighs quivering slightly when he finally buried himself to the hilt.

“Tight as ever,” Damen panted with a kiss. “You make me feel even larger."

* * *

“A skill I naturally have, I assure you,” Laurent panted, adjusting. His fingers held tight to Damen as he settled his legs around his lover’s middle, pushed his sweat-damp hair from his own eyes. He lay back and just took a moment, smiling sporadically between little soft breaths, seemingly having the time of his life just having Damen inside of him again.

His posture visibly slackened when he finally adjusted fully - or as much as he ever could. It was a comfortable, pleasurable stretch that Laurent would never complain about, unless he was teasing. But there was no teasing in him now. Only desire.

“Slowly,” he asked of Damen, though he knew Damen intended nothing else.

Once a natural rhythm had been found, and they could just move together, Laurent pulled himself up to Damen, arms wrapped around his neck, and pulled him into kiss after languid kiss. He groaned and panted right into the kisses, normal sounds of overwhelmed pleasure at what a feeling it was to have Damen fully sheathed in him and moving.

Laurent chanted Damen’s name in something like praise as he neared his release, his hand moving between them to start fisting at his own cock. It was something Laurent still took control of. There had been a few times he had finished without - that inn as Soren being most of them - but for the most part, it was something he saw to finishing so that he and Damen might finish together.

* * *

Compared to usual, Damen was quiet. He focused on Laurent’s body, on slow presses in, the rubbing of his hips against the backs of Laurent’s thighs. It was languid, simmering, everything true lovemaking should be. Laurent pulled him into kisses Damen had no hope of refusing and responded in kind with the occasional grunt of his own when Laurent tightened around him just right.

When Laurent started moaning his name Damen picked up his pace, short thrusts that brought him closer to orgasm in step with Laurent.

He was still relatively quiet as he started putting more power behind his movement, and only rutted a few more times before he was spilling hot into him, moaning softly as he did so. He held Laurent’s face with one hand, almost reverently as he milked himself, his entire body tingling with his release.

Yes, he’d needed that. More than he’d realized in the beginning.

* * *

As Laurent found his own end in time with Damen, he turned his face into his lover’s hand, eyes shut, blindly kissing at whatever bit of flesh he came into contact with between open-mouthed gasps of pleasure. A week’s worth of tension left his body, and when he felt the warmth of Damen’s release inside of him, he somehow found a way to relax more. His thighs jumped and twitched, his stomach fluttered, but he was otherwise still, sated, /pleased/.

Still panting softly, Laurent pulled Damen down with his newly freed hands, kissing him again with a /bit/ more sense about him as he sobered up from their lovemaking.

These were his favourite moments, those they had between lovemaking and sleeping. They were their most intimate and private moments with no distraction from their love whatsoever.

Laurent’s body shivered with pleasure. He chuckled softly into Damen’s mouth.

“Come here,” He whispered, pulling Damen down on top of him for the time being so that he might give him proper attention - proper thanks for what he’d just given Laurent. It was always a good sign when Laurent prioritised holding Damen and massaging into the top of his neck instead of running for a towel.

He kissed Damen’s temple, scratched at his lower back and just took a few of those quiet moments with him there. Close.

* * *

Damen was something close to boneless. Everything was warm, the air was thick with the scent of sex, and his body was pliant as he all but melted into Laurent. He met each kiss with lazy movements of his lips, his fingers still wandering Laurent’s neck and shoulder as he began to soften up inside him.

He grunted softly when Laurent pulled him closer, tucking his face into his neck. For a few moments he simply enjoyed Laurent’s body around him, the gentle and much-needed massage at the back of his neck. Mindless murmurs left his lips when Laurent’s nails gently scraped across his lower back.

For that short time, Damen was completely at peace. Any trust he had lost with Laurent was returned now that he could be completely vulnerable, completely himself. No crown, no eyes on him, no expectations.

“I love you more than I have ever loved anything,” Damen murmured sleepily, pressing a kiss to Laurent’s neck.

* * *

Laurent stilled for a moment upon hearing Damen, as he really had to take a moment to process what he’d said. It was something he had obviously heard before, but to hear it after the past few weeks was still...surprising. Especially because Damen /meant it/.

And yes, Laurent understood that it could be the post-coital talking, but when it was something he’d wanted to hear so badly, he could let that stand.

Tomorrow would be the true test of it all, after all. When they went back to being two kings, when they had to face the world that was not just their own.

Or, when Laurent shared the same sentiment.

It was tumultuous, swearing to something he’d already sworn to only to go and give Damen doubts in him. But it was truly something he believed to be true, felt in his heart.

So he said it.

“And I, you,” he said to Damen, kissing his temple again, holding him close and just hoping that was understood, that it was /believed/.

* * *

Damen nuzzled into Laurent’s neck when he responded. It did sober him a little bit to hear it, simply because the past few weeks had been so difficult for both of them. He did believe that Laurent meant it, but…what about Fynn? Fynn still love him, despite being rejected. Fynn still wanted Laurent to change his mind, and had been convincing enough at least twice to get Laurent to do it.

He closed his eyes and willed the weight of his uncertainty to dissipate. Laurent was still wrapped snugly around him, the air thick with their lovemaking, the warmth of the fire keeping them from shivering as the sweat dried on their bodies.

For a long moment he just laid there and listened to the fire, to Laurent’s breathing.

Finally, he moved up to his elbows, sleepy and warm. He pressed kisses to Laurent’s cheek and found his lips, lazy and dragging.

“I should fetch a towel,” he murmured, but made no move to untangle himself. “Or else I might fall asleep and smother you here."

* * *

“A towel would be nice,” Laurent agreed quietly, just pulled out from his thoughts by Damen talking. He’d been thinking about grabbing up a towel from the wash bowl not far from them, but he had become distracted by Damen again and again.

Laurent had been running his hand up and down Damen’s back, fingers running over the ridges and bumps of smooth scars. He hadn’t even realised it at first, had merely wanted to hold Damen close, and had only clued into it after a long while. His mind ran with how unbelievable it was that Damen had forgiven him time and time again, and Laurent focused on the love that was behind that first and foremost.

He’d reflect on himself later. This could not be the time.

When his mind had moved from that, it had gone straight to the towel that his muscles usually itched to run and grab. This indulging in each other after sex had not been in Laurent’s nature at first, as sex had been very much a utilitarian task only for him. That had run through the first bit of their relationship as well, so if Laurent had to focus in anything about himself right now, perhaps it would be the positivity in that growth.

That being said, he was very mucg beginning to feel uncomfortable as Damen’s and his own release dried on him.

“I’m trapped,” Laurent murmured unhurried, finding Damen’s lips for another kiss not a second later.

* * *

Damen reluctantly freed himself from Laurent and crawled forward to the wash bowl where a towel sat ready. He wetted it and returned, gently cleaning Laurent of sticky release before attending to himself. When he was finished he tossed the towel aside and grabbed Laurent’s cup of water from before to take a drink, realizing after a sip that he and Laurent didn’t share cups. In fact, he didn’t think they ever had.

Once he was finished drinking, he filled the cup again and offered it to Laurent before crawling back onto the warmth of the furs. This time, he moved onto his side and traced the jutting lines of Laurent’s hip bones, the soft skin of his navel.

“Should I get us a blanket?” he asked, though his eyes were drifting closed. “Or will I be warm enough for you?”

He kissed Laurent’s hip and hummed softly, wishing that time would extend so they didn’t have to return to duties when the sun came up.

“Either way, I want you to come down here and kiss me,” he demanded with affection. “I want you wrapped around me again."

* * *

Laurent relaxed while Damen cleaned him, softly humming his appreciation as Damen saw to his comfort. Laurent’s eyes were closed, and though he knew he would not fall asleep right away, he knew it would not be too much longer before he did. And something told him he would sleep well tonight, with Damen by his side.

“Auguste used to say you should never fall asleep without a blanket,” Laurent chuckled softly as he drank his water. “Nor with your boots on,” Laurent tacked on after another sip. “Death omen or...something like that.”

But Laurent could grab the blanket. There was still one pretty close by from where he’d slept in the couch. He did a little trick of wrapping a drooping corner of the blanket around his foot and pulling it down from the couch. He brought his foot up to his hand and just like that, they had a blanket. And he only had to leave Damen’s side by a few inches.

With the cup set aside, and the blanket at their disposal, Laurent moved back to the floor, right into Damen’s chest. He kissed Damen’s neck as he settled in there, nude, warm, and definitely /there/ for the evening.

He had to stop to yawn before he could kiss Damen.

* * *

“Auguste was clearly Veretian,” Damen muttered. “And not used to heat.” He only had to lie there a moment longer before Laurent was tugging a blanket over his shoulder. Damen happily accepted Laurent into his arms, nuzzling against him. Their body heat under the blanket was just enough, and the slowly dying fire would keep them warm until morning.

Once Laurent had yawned, Damen kissed him sweetly, but he was tired. His eyes were heavy as he continued a few more kisses, gently laving his tongue over Laurent’s bottom lip. His hands wandered Laurent’s back, over the curves and planes.

He didn’t remember falling asleep—the next time he opened his eyes it was just before dawn. Servants had apparently tended to the fire overnight, and Damen wondered if the whole palace knew what they had been up to. So be it.

“G’morning,” Damen greeted with a raspy voice. He pressed a kiss to Laurent’s hair and pulled him closer. “How did you sleep, hm?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we done messed up '^^ here is the real chapter 2! 
> 
> thanks to neilyl for alerting us! 

Laurent slept like the absolute dead, not moving once throughout the night once he went down. After weeks of not sleeping properly, either from sickness, worry, or guilt, Laurent finally had the comfort to fully pass out, live in the little world he and Damen has created where there was only love and...Damen’s soft snoring.

  
Waking Laurent could have been a chore, but the moment his brain clued back into where he was and who he was with, he took in a deep breath and opened his eyes. He had taken it to heart that he had been, amongst other things, quite childish over the past few weeks, and he would not be a brat about waking when things were still so ‘new‘ between the two of them again.

“Morning,” he murmured, shifting his legs beneath the covers to unstick his calf from Damen’s. This would definitely be a bathing day, that was for sure.

  
It took him a few moments more to gather himself before he responded with an underwhelming, “I certainly slept.”

And where he had no desire of giving it up, they had an important day ahead of them. Last night had been wonderful and needed, but as it had loomed all the evening, it was the day where they had to fight the hold of lust and...work together again. As kings who, as of yesterday, might not be following through with a union. Laurent liked to think last night had changed something, but he had to be realistic.

  
It was certainly a sobering thought.

* * *

Damen adored his view of Laurent’s mussed hair and flushed cheeks. He leaned in to kiss him, meeting his lips with a soft noise of affection. He loathed the idea of getting up from their spot to talk about being kings. But at least they were still in their warm cave of their evening together, tangled up in sex and sleep.

  
“I love you,” he murmured against Laurent’s lips. He tugged the blanket over their heads and pulled Laurent closer. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to stay here. Perhaps we can discuss our union in a more intimate way.”

  
He pressed another kiss his lips and felt his way down Laurent’s spine again.

  
“Let’s at least discuss things without clothing,” he groaned, rolling onto his back and taking the blanket with him.

  
He tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes once more.

  
“What is it we have to do today anyhow?"

* * *

“I could very easily be persuaded to stay here,” Laurent assured Damen as he tumbled around with him on the furs. Laurent could feel the edge of the blanket just ghosting at his thighs from how Damen had yanked it up so, but he had no complaints. It was quite warm under there.“/You/ were the one who said this would not be the place to have these conversations.”

  
And they would need to have the conversations. Riding in what happened yesterday would be temporary, a cover to a wound and not a salve. They could have them here, in the intimacy of their world, if that was what Damen wanted. Laurent would do anything he could to make this easy without using himself against Damen.

  
He moved his head to rest in Damen’s chest, lying comfortably on his side right up against Damen’s body.

  
He didn’t want to move if he didn’t have to.

* * *

Once Laurent laid his head on Damen’s chest, he decided he didn’t want to have any discussions about the union outside of this room. He wanted a quiet morning with Laurent, bathing in the love they had for each other. He didn’t want it ruined by the sight of Fynn or sitting with the court or anything else.

  
“We will discuss here then,” Damen said with a kiss to Laurent’s hair, fingers lazily caressing the small of Laurent’s back.

  
He called for a servant to fetch them breakfast and propped his head up with a pillow to lie with Laurent and watch the fire in the hearth. There as no howling winter wind, and Arles hadn’t yet woken, so they finally had quiet.

  
“I do want a child,” he said, deciding to jump right in. “And I think not having one risks throwing our kingdom into war when we die. But I won’t make that a requirement to our union.”

  
To think it was merely days ago when he had been prepared to enter a loveless marriage with a child. He would have done it, too.

  
“And I think it would be a good idea to trade artworks and artifacts,” Damen said, changing the subject. "To add Vere to Akielos and Akielos to Vere. Ios and Arles can display icons of culture to each other. What do you think?"

* * *

Laurent wasn’t necessarily relieved by the turn of events, but he did prefer it. He did get something of an advantage in this environment - and he would need an advantage, he knew. This would not be an easy set of discussions - it /couldn’t/ be - and with the history of their last few union conversations, he needed all the help he could get.

  
Especially when Damen came right out of the gate with the heir issue.

  
Laurent sighed before he could think anything of it, but he did not immediately dismiss it. Every bit of him knew how deftly he would have to navigate this, what he would need to say to placate Damen—

  
But he had to be honest.

  
He had promised Damen that.

  
“I do not know that an heir is something I can promise right now,” Laurent told Damen, eyes on the fire, fingers unconsciously thumbing at Damen’s cuff. Touching was important. Damen liked it. “It is...not something I will stand by a definitive ‘no’ towards, but it is not something I feel I can say yes to right now.” And he thought that was fair.

  
Much like he thought Damen’s offer on their mixed culture would be.

  
“We should start with Marlas,” Laurent agreed. “It is...as blank a slate as we will have. We make it as we desire, and the rest of the kingdom follows suit.” And while they were on it, “We leave the Kingsmeet be with your Akielon royalty only, but we have monuments erected for your father and Auguste in Marlas.”

  
He would not argue his father’s place in Marlas. Perhaps in some sort of small form - the place where he been slain, perhaps - but Damen had been correct in that Marlas might not be the place for his father.

  
“Then, I believe Arles and Ios should follow suit, yes, but it should begin in the heart of our kingdom.”

  
Their kingdom. Together.

  
They were off to a good start, Laurent thought.

* * *

Damen wasn’t as disheartened as he had been the first time Laurent said he didn’t want an heir. They had plenty of time before they were wed, and afterthat they would have months of hard work ahead of them before things were calmed down enough that they could think of a child.  
Laurent had dropped the idea of King Aleron at Marlas, so that was a victory as well.

  
He didn’t like thinking of their union in terms of victories and losses, but simply talking about this was reminding him of what he had seen, how betrayed he felt. Of course, Fynn had explained himself since then, so boldly that Damen had to believe him. But it didn’t shake the possibility that maybe someday Laurent could be tempted by another man.\

  
“I want you to know I won’t make an announcement for a few days,” Damen said quietly. His gut twisted as he said it, but he had good reason. “All of my men know that I’ve slept with you by now,” he said. “I can’t suddenly change tack and agree to marriage when I’ve been reconsidering. They would try to say you…intoxicated me somehow, persuaded me with your body.”

  
And honestly, they might be right.

  
“Being in Ios without you for those few months showed me how my country has changed. Akielos is not the kingdom my father ruled. My people fear another Kastor, and the thought of having a king who has relations outside of the union is no longer so accepted as it was when I was born,” he said. “You did well to announce first, but…”

  
He set his jaw for a moment, watching the flames.

  
“The betrayal I felt in that moment, Laurent—it is not something I will soon forget, even if it was not as it appeared.” He swallowed hard, and closed his eyes as his heart began to beat faster with the fear of losing Laurent in a way he could not prevent.  
“I never thought to be afraid of you falling in love with another. I know that isn’t what happened, but now that fear has planted itself in me."

Laurent did not blame Damen for delaying his announcement, even if it did immediately sober any wonderful feelings he’d had last night. In an instant, Laurent was reminded of what this union was - political. In a dream world, it was just about love, but in the real world, it was something they had to /debate/, they had to reason out, had to /plan/.

  
If Damen went out tomorrow and gave his men the decision of a union after one night, yes, Laurent would be on a sort of trial for bewitching him or something equally as ridiculous. No one would trust the decision, nor the resulting union. Akielos would think of Laurent as Vere has once thought of Damen - a bed warmer and a distraction. Timing would be everything in this, and as much as Laurent wanted to rush past it all, he knew that waiting was for the best.

  
“That is fair,” he murmured, watching the flames dance in the hearth from his spot still rested on Damen’s chest.

  
If there was any position to have these matters of country discussed, Laurent supposed he preferred this one. Perhaps it was not the most orthodox of set-ups for a political meeting, but they were not the most orthodox lovers.

  
Though, in this position, Laurent could hear Damen’s heartbeat quicken in his chest, could hear his calm disturbed before he’d even brought it up.  
But of course, it /had/ to be brought up.

  
“What did he say to you?” Laurent asked softly, knowing there was nothing more he could say to dissuade Damen, to talk him out of his fear. It would be there for some time because of his actions, but /Fynn/ had found something to say that had caught Damen more so than anything Laurent had said and said and said. He thought he might have the right to know.

* * *

This was going better than Damen had hoped it would. Without the eyes of the court or the tension from Fynn, they were actually getting somewhere in their discussions. It was more than they had been able to talk about in weeks—ever since Fynn has arrived. He didn’t want to discuss Fynn with Laurent right now, but he deserved to know.

“He approached me in the field alone, on horseback. A foolish move,” he chuckled. “I nearly killed him. And he…”

He trailed off for a moment. “I saw my own pain in him,” he said quietly. “He was not kind in telling me off, nor did he make what I had seen to be something that it wasn’t. He told me he wished like nothing else that what I thought had happened was true.”

Damen held Laurent a little tighter to him and kissed the crown of his head.

“I knew a man who cared about you so much yet was willing to give up his chances for your happiness at the detriment of his own…I could not help but listen."

* * *

Laurent had this way of attracting absolute idiots, that was for certain. Had Laurent acted upon receiving the letter from Fynn, he could have at least tried to stop him from /riding solo right into the man who wanted him dead more than anything/. Laurent had ultimately benefited from Fynn’s actions, but to think if they had gone wrong...

There was more guilt, but it was not as suffocating this go around.

There would be no gift that could parallel what Fynn had done for him. He had somehow gotten through to Damen in a way Laurent had not been able to, and he had found a way to give Laurent some sort of closure that he could not yet understand.

Laurent kissed Damen’s chest in return for the kiss to his head, left it at that for a moment. He should have left it at that for the rest of the day, but Laurent could not justify just brushing it aside. He would not have more uncertainty between them. He would mend what he could while he could.

“I would have him as a friend and as an advisor,” Laurent murmured, “but only with your blessing. And your /understanding/.” Laurent had no doubts that a truce and even a partnership between Kempt and Vere could still happen even if Fynn could not be directly involved with Laurent - though he did not want it that way.

“I cannot lose you again,” Laurent said a little more quietly. “I was confused and I acted foolishly and treated you /terribly/ and I—“ He went quiet for a moment, knowing no words would make this right or quiet Damen’s thoughts.

But he had to try.

“There is no play,” he told Damen, focusing that first. “I love you. Dearly. I jest about taking Akielos, but there is no country I want more than you, Damianos. I want...nothing more than you, Damianos.”

* * *

Damen felt himself tense when Laurent admitted to wanting Fynn as an advisor and friend. Of course, he knew that it would be imperative to keeping Kempt as a close ally, and Fynn would be good for it. Damen had to imagine he was even better with Kemptians than he was with a furious Akielon king. He was, undoubtedly, an asset.

“What confused you?” Damen had to ask, though he was comforted by Laurent admitting how much he loved him. He still wasn’t used to it, but he was starting to be.

“I can’t help but think I’ve done something wrong as a lover. I know...I know I have more experience bedding people. And I know that while I was with Jokaste I continued to do that, because...”

Because he had been an heir, and that was what heirs did. Kings too, if his father was any example. As far as he knew, Jokaste had never been upset by it.

“Perhaps I am being hypocritical because I was with that pet once, but If you feel you must experiment...this relationship will not last,” he said softly, with pain. “I can’t find it within myself to ever approve of you having relations with others. Call me traditional, but I can’t bear it, especially now.”

* * *

“My past confused me,” Laurent confessed, lifting his eyes from the fire and up to Damen’s face. But only for a moment. This was a little too intimate for Laurent’s comfort. These statements were a direct line to his weaknesses, and they were difficult to just give to someone, even the man he loved the most.

“I saw something return to me that had not been tainted by my upbringing,” Laurent murmured, dancing around the point as he warmed up to giving it. “And it reminded me of the good I had in my youth, and I...clung to it. Foolishly.”

Laurent absently kissed Damen’s chest, rubbed the back of his fingers over Damen’s collarbone as he tried to blame /himself/ for Laurent’s actions. Laurent would not allow it.

“I did have...fear that you were no longer in love with me,” Laurent did say, “That you would not be for much longer. That I had become unloveable in my difficulty, yes, but that was not why I kissed him. That was not your fault.”

“The kiss was both foolish and shameful,” Laurent went on so that Damen, perhaps this time, would understand. “I felt that I owed it to him. For both my using him and...for what he’d never had with Auguste. I thought to myself, ‘I’ve my brother’s mantle, his crown. I’ve taken his spot as king, so...perhaps I could take his spot as a...lover, I suppose’.”

Laurent shook his head and sat up to scrub his face in his hands. His face stretched as he dragged his hand down his neck, where he ultimately rested it, his other hand moving to touch at his cuff.

“I had and have no interests in relations with others,” he said resolutely, eyes on the fire again. “I can barely sustain one.”

It might have been a joke, but Laurent hardly gave it any gusto to be presented as such.

* * *

Damen was thankful once more that they were having this discussion as they were. His tension was soothed by Laurent’s soft touches, and he was almost embarrassed by the way his frustration and fear dissipated just under the touch of Laurent’s fingers. Perhaps he was /too/ reliant on touch. Regardless, it allowed him to listen to what Laurent had to say and not become upset about it.

“It isn’t your brother’s crown,” he said quickly, scratching softly at he base of Laurent’s spine where it was now exposed. “And it isn’t his spot. He passed away before it was ever his. Since then, it has only ever been yours.”

Laurent had proven himself to be the only king capable of pulling Vere back into power. Merging with Akielos was a move that would improve their kingdom for the foreseeable future.

Damen sat up, moving behind Laurent to take him into his arms again, this time sitting together. He kissed the corner of his jaw before nosing there gently. “You can,” he murmured into Laurent’s neck, through his blond hair. “And we have plenty of time to practice.”

He feathered a few kisses along Laurent’s shoulder. “We will have to come up with a name for our new kingdom. Akiere? Verelos? Or something of our own creation?"

* * *

Laurent was still learning - about himself, about Damen, about his role as king, about healthy relationships. There was nothing holding him back now but himself, and where he truly was giving it all he had, it would take time to undo almost a decade /himself/ to be who he wanted to be. Despite his strength and focus, growing /with/ someone and not in solitude as he had forced himself before presented him with many /additional/ challenges that he still needed to work through.

Soft kisses helped.

There would be a day where Laurent made the decision to step outside of the shadow of Auguste and claimed this all for what it was, but it was almost a comfort to him to stay as he was - the little brother, the spare heir, the one who had to learn this on his own for he had never been prepped for ruling. It was an excuse, in case he failed, and he clung to it...though he knew he would never outwardly use such an excuse. It was for his own peace of mind.

He moved his arms to hold Damen’s, a little smile finding it way on his lips as Damen kissed him so gently, held Laurent so close. That was something else Laurent was learning to understand - how much he truly wanted and needed Damen.

“Oh, those are terrible,” Laurent teased with a little laugh, though perhaps it was only because it sounded /strange/, to think of Vere as...anything else, to think of Akielos as anything else. It didn’t help that anyone with a proper Veretian accent sounded ridiculous saying Akielos as it was, and a proper Akielon accent made Vere sound even worse. Merging them would be...painful to the ears.

“Listen,” Laurent explained, pointing at his throat where his accent sat as he repeated, “Akiere. Akiere.” He wrinkled his nose and tried the other. “Verelos. Verelos.”

It was not /as/ bad.

“Perhaps a...broader term,” Laurent offered, “that might be translated in both languages. The...Great...something.” Oh, his idea was even /worse/!

* * *

“Well, Veretians make everything sound ugly,” Damen teased. He eyes Laurent as he held his throat to speak, biting his lip to keep from laughing. It did sound pretty bad with his accent. But he couldn’t hold it in when Laurent suggested his own name.

“Ah, yes. Would you like that in Akielon or Veretian?” He cleared his throat, arms still wound around Laurent’s middle. “Welcome to our kingdom. The Great Something,” he said in Akielon. Then he switched to Veretian to continue: “And this is my husband, Laurent, King of The Great Something.”

It was nice to say husband, even just for pretend. A few days ago he had seen the prospect of marrying Laurent slipping away from him, any hope of their union gone because of a Kemptian duke. It still felt too fragile to say things were certain, but Damen hoped they were. He loved Laurent more than anything.

“In any case, I was thinking our new crest could be a lion with a starburst mane,” Damen offered. “Perhaps a gold lion with a sapphire mane? With diamonds and gold in its hair?"

* * *

Laurent’s face went hot as he blushed through his own laughter, it only getting worse as Damen took over with his terrible, half-thought name and ran with it. Laurent almost began to beg for mercy until Damen ran with the ‘husband’ line. Laurent’s blush was of made of something different then, but he would blame it on the heat of the fire if need be.

He’d thought that possibility gone just as Damen had only days ago. It felt /right/ to hear it again, and Laurent might actually have found some tension to release when he heard it.

“That is not something an accent can ruin,” Laurent said by way of the new crest. “I think that is a wonderful idea. We will need to discuss our overall banner colour...talk to Charls about finding the fabric...”

Laurent should write it all down, but a new banner for a new, unnamed country was not something he would forget.

“I hoped to speak better Akielon before we were united,” Laurent did say, drawing one knee up to himself as he leant back into Damen’s hold. “So I could speak more easily with the people, switch as easily between the languages as you do.” And Laurent has learned a lot on the road with Damen, had learned a bit in their private time, but they did predominantly speak Veretian together, undoubtedly for Laurent’s comfort.

“You bought me that book,” Laurent continued, nodding over to the little table beside his bed. “And I understand much less than I’d like.” He had done better with the Kemptian, and that sat quite funny with him now.

* * *

“Your Akielon is impressive for someone who has not been to Akielos for more than a few months,” Damen assured him. But he knew that reading was very different than speaking. Words could be understood with tone and inflection, but words had to be read for what they were.

He realized in that moment that this was their first conversation concerning the union that hadn’t ended In fighting since Fynn had arrived.

“Do you want to speak in Akielon when we’re together now?” He asked in Akielon. “That way you can practice. And you could come out to our drills tomorrow and speak Akielon with the men. They would enjoy it, I’m sure.”

Maybe. Many of them were bewildered by Damen’s behavior, but some were upset that he had hurt Damen somehow. But Laurent would be able to prove himself as he had many times before in showing them how physically talented he was.

* * *

“I think I would like that,” Laurent responded in his accented Akielon. “I will do my best to not...” He had to take a moment to find the word already, “-slip back into Veretian.” The word was of a child’s conjugation, but Laurent could not exactly pull the word ‘oscillate’ from his Akielon vocabulary. Yet.

This switch would definitely slow down their conversations, however. Laurent would not be able to speak with his usual eloquence, his usual rhythm and confidence. He would need to stop and pick words, find them so as to not embarrass himself.

It would be a fun - and necessary - challenge.

“I will not shock your men into my being there just yet,” Laurent did decide, though he did like the idea of training with the Akielons. He’d not done that in some time and he quite missed their awe and shock when he was able to show off what training he had.

“I will give them a few days to settle back with us before I remind them of my...” Laurent searched for the word before falling back into Veretian to ask, “How do you say ‘talent’?”

He thought he was funny.

“You have your men tomorrow,” Laurent smiled warmly, right back into Akielon. Damen had alluded to easing his men back into this union, and Laurent would respect that. It would be difficult to just accept him back after what orders Damen had given them in the past few days. They deserved time. “I will train on my own for tomorrow, to be sure I am still who they remember on the field. Then I will join.”

* * *

It was nice to hear his own language in Arles, particularly when it was coming from Laurent’s mouth. Damen watched him speak with a wide smile that grew fonder with every word. Love was such an encompassing emotion that it was a wonder he’d ever been able to feel anger toward Laurent at any point during all of this.

“You can remind them of your talent on the battlefield,” he said in Akielon. “Or your talent in bed. Best not to mix up the words.” He gave Laurent a sweet kiss to his cheek, pleased to find it still warm from all of his blushing.

“And what of today?” he asked, running his palm up the inside of Laurent’s thigh where he had drawn up his knee. “I was thinking…if you truly plan to have Lucien become and ambassador of some sort for pets, it might be a good idea to train him to use a sword. I think…he would benefit from learning your style with a blade instead of Jord’s.”

He yawned, though he knew they had no real chance to going back to bed, even if it was early.

“We should bathe,” he murmured, then paused his fingers were they were caressing Larent’s thigh. “Though I would prefer to take you here one more time before we do that. You can practice your Akielon bedchamber phrases. Show me your talent.”

It wasn’t that he even felt the need to take Laurent again, he simply wanted the connection. He wanted Laurent just like this, in his lap, riding his cock. And maybe he wanted a fistful of blond hair and to leave a few marks on the pale curves of his throat, just so no one had to guess what they had been up to.

* * *

What /of/ today? It was barely the afternoon and Laurent felt the day had already gotten away from them, that it was a lost cause and they should just lie here until they could try again tomorrow. Bathing was the only task Laurent could really  
support, but Damen did have a point with Lucien. Training him would be wise, if just for his own sake. Jord might even appreciate it. Aimerick had been good with a sword...

“You expect me to be able to keep with the Akielon while you bed me?” Laurent asked with a laugh, not at all surprised Damen’s mind would wander to such a place. His touches had given away his thoughts before his words had. “I do not know that your language is colourful enough for such a task.”

At least, not that Laurent knew well enough to spout off without self-consciousness.

Akielon /sounded/ better in bed though, he would confess to that. When Damen slipped into it, it was the most arousing thing Laurent had ever heard. It was harsher than Veretian, raspy in its own way, and when Damen fell unconsciously into it? It was an unmatched phenomenon.

And a learning opportunity he couldn’t reason with passing up.

“I suppose I could practice a new /talent/,” Laurent smiled, very much using the correct Akielon term for it now that he knew it. “Tell me, how would I say ‘fuck me like a whore’ in Akielon?”

* * *

“I stand corrected then, you still have much to learn,” Damen laughed, pulling the furs away from where they had pooled at Laurent’s hips. “It depends on how you truly want to be fucked.” His touch wandered down Laurent’s thigh again as he continue, “You can say I want to be fucked like a dog, I want to be fucked like a rabbit, I want to be fucked like a woman—meaning on your back. But they all /mean/ you want to be fucked like a whore.”

To think /he/ was giving a Veretian lessons in bedroom speak. “Though you could say you want to be fucked like a whore, and that would imply I’m in charge of deciding. If that’s the case, turn around. I want you to face me.”

Someone would come looking for them at some point in the day, but Damen hoped they would be making enough noise to ward them off for awhile longer.

* * *

Well, /that/ was quite the lesson. Laurent wished he was in a better place to soak in the words, but he caught up on two of the phrases - the two that mattered to him most. Damen would find out what those were in time.

Laurent’s head cocked just slightly to the side, his mind wandering on the words and how they would sound coming from him. He doubted they would sound nearly as attractive as they did on Damens lips.

But what Damen implied next pooled heat in Laurent’s gut.

Laurent did not voluntarily hand Damen the power of decision often, especially not over him. He’d done so in their earlier conversation about having Fynn as an advisor, and before that? Back in that inn when they posed as Soren and Lamen.

He would not be the one to hand over full control, but what Damen asked of him in that moment was something Laurent did not necessarily mind.

So he turned to face Damen as requested, and just for fun, he repeated one of the Akielon phrases he’d just learned.

“Like a whore,” he said decisively in his accented Akielon, really only misplacing his inflection on it.

Now, what else could he learn?

“Tell me how you say, ‘I need you’.”

Laurent knew how to say this. He’d heard Damen say it /many/ times, but...one more wouldn’t hurt.

* * *

Laurent’s Akielon was definitely accented, but that made Damen love it al the more. He had never heard such dirty words in his own language, not from Laurent. It was another thing he hadn’t realized about their relationship. He always spoke Veretian, because with Laurent it felt right. It felt like home. But in actuality, he did need to teach him how to be fluent in both, to be confident in both.

He also knew Laurent know how to say what he was asking to learn.

“I need you,” Damen said, clearly not as a lesson, but as a fact. He moved his hands down Laurent’s sides, gripping his hips and then his ass, because he could.

“Oil, he said in Akielon, glancing toward the phial. “Spread in my lap, and I’ll do the rest. You will practice telling me what you need.”

Last time Laurent was in his lap, he had been facing the other way and attempting to read a book, Soren’s earring draping over his pale shoulder each time he tipped his head back with pleasure. Damen rather missed that.

“Would you wear jewelry in bed?” Damen asked, running hsi hands over Laurent’s lower body. “My...slaves would wear gold chains around their hips, harnesses made of the same. the thin chains, and sometimes jewels. You would be…breathtaking in them.” He blushed, realizing how it must sound. “Not—they didn’t wear them because they were slaves. It was because I bought them, and they were in my bed frequently. The others who visited my bedchamber simply wore whatever they had on when I seduced them.”

He tipped his head forward to mouth at Laurent’s collarbone. “In this case, I am lucky. You aren’t wearing anything."

* * *

Laurent quite liked having his say in what they did in bed - or wherever they decided to fuck - but perhaps it suited their relationship to relinquish power ever so often. At least /here/ of all places. There was no haunting torment of his past that kept him from it; Laurent was simply a controlling person. It was a trait he did not absently give up - it had to be purposefully given.

It had worked in the inn.

“Oil,” Laurent repeated in Akielon as he grabbed up the phial and uncorked it, /accidentally/ spilling a bit between them with a very poor Akielon, “Apologies.” His mischievous little expression gave him right away.

Before the expression fell as he took in Damen’s question.

“I would,” Laurent said to Damen without much thought on it, “wear them.” He hoped he’d picked out the proper word for ‘wear’ from Damen’s question. Laurent did not necessarily like jewellery all that much, but thin chains? That enhanced his beauty? That Damen wanted? Laurent could do that. He did always like to look a /touch/ extra almost everywhere else. Why not the bedroom?

He carded his fingers through Damen’s hair, smiling softly.

Laurent loved to learn new things that Damen loved, that he enjoyed. He liked when they shared with each other, and this was new. This was exciting. Laurent would gladly play a little bit of dress up. He did not mind being likened to a slave, had not even thought that’s what Damen was doing. He knew he was not a slave and that Damen would never see him that way.

He let himself have a moment under Damen’s lips then, his mind wandering with what he might learn next.

“How would I say, ‘right there’?” Laurent asked cheekily after a moment. “And ‘harder’? These seem like words I should have at the ready, no?” Laurent’s confidence waned ever so slightly with that after having to search for the term for ‘ready’, but he did not back down.

* * *

Damen was already planing how to commission the most ornate dressings of gold and jewels he could commission. Laurent wore jewelry so rarely, but to see him adorned in it would…he couldn’t wait. Damen had to steel a kiss then, warmed by Laurent’s fingers in his hair, shivering slightly as the bead of oil ran down his chest.

Before he continued his lesson, Damen warmed oil in his palms, then slicked his fingers.

“Harder,” he said in Akielon, spreading Laurent a little wider over his lap. He circled Laurent’s entrance, then pushed a finger inside him, gentle bus insistent. He didn’t want to rush this, but he also didn’t want a slow fuck like they had last night. He wanted sweat and soft cries, Laurent hot and eager on his cock.

“Right there,” he instructed, his tone low and wanting. He pressed deeper, working him open with practiced ease.

“I liked your surprise, you know,” Damen said after a long moment. “When I returned to my chambers after a long day, I was expecting nothing more than to go to bed, wishing you were beside me. Instead you were there, desiring me.”

It was a sight he would never forget. “Feel free to do that whenever you wish. I do love surprises when they involve you nude in my bed."

* * *

The ‘harder’ Laurent would hold onto for when it fit the circumstance. The ‘right there’ however could not have been learned at a better time. Laurent let out a soft little noise to accompany the new word as he shuddered ever so around Damen’s finger.

It met little resistance, especially after last night, and Laurent was grateful for that. He usually valued a slow fuck, but right now, he was much more interested in something a little quicker. They had everything and nothing to do today, after all. They could luxuriate in each other’s presence after the union. Until then, there was much work to be done.

And there would be days where Laurent would surprise him again. He hoped Damen might try again one day, to return the surprise. It wasn’t something Laurent would usually take interest in, but he thought they both deserved to try the scenario again.

Laurent had nothing more to hide.

“I will be sure to—“ Laurent started in Veretian, but he was quick to right himself back into Akielon, as planned. “—keep surprising you,” he finished in Akielon.

Just before groaning out a bossy, “More.”

Another word he’d learned from Damen prior to this.

* * *

Damen still had to go out and run drills with his men today, but he was sure they would notice a change in him, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the reason. He still never boasted about bedding Laurent—he had adopted a policy to keep their time in the bedroom very private, as he had while enslaved (not that there had been much to keep hidden back then).

But the men would certainly be able to tell from his smile, his relaxed posture in the saddle, his dopy grin.

“More?” he repeated, easily pushing in a second finger. He loved seeing Laurent like this, it somehow felt like he was closer than when they were in bed or one of them was on top.

“Kiss me,” he demanded against Laurent’s throat before tipping his head up to find his mouth. He spread his fingers, curled and twisted, worked to increase the friction, to drive Laurent wild with need. He could hear the city now, could hear as Arles headed toward the warmest part of the winter day. And he got to be here fucking Laurent, listening to his noises.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded. “In Akielon."

* * *

  
Damen knew how to make Laurent keen, how to make him shudder and groan in a way no one else could - and Laurent hoped Damen knew that. Laurent didn’t make this much noise when he was in pain, wouldn’t give anyone in this world the satisfaction of it. But Damen undid him, loosened him up in many ways all with a few words, a few touches. He had every bit of trust from Laurent, whether he realised it or not.

Laurent didn’t know the words he needed for this, took the time kissing Damen to try to piece together some Akielon sentences that would work for this. He would sound silly, would undoubtedly misuse and mispronounce a few words, but that would not stop him from trying.

He’d learned a few phrases around those campfires with Akielon men, their tales of brothels and wives, slaves and drunken evenings.

“What is it your whores say?” Laurent asked, using his new word quite confidently for someone who did not at all know what he was saying. He was recounting one of Macedon’s stories, repeating the phrase he’d said time and time again about the most attractive woman he’d had in all of Ios, which roughly translated to, “I want your children.”

Laurent had suspected it meant something along the lines of ‘I want your cock,’ to be very fair.

* * *

Damen was very much focused on pleasuring Laurent to his fullest extent, but hearing that phrase drop from his mouth with such sultry conviction almost made him abandon the whole idea of Laurent in his lap to get him on his hands and knees for a proper mounting. Of course Laurent would find something to completely undo hi, and he wondered how long he’d been saving it.

Of course Laurent couldn’t have his children, but Damen wanted to provide them anyway. He wanted Laurent to have his children even if they were birthed by someone else, to raise them together. And though they were two men, Damen had no issues with practicing kingmaking as much as Laurent wanted.

“Do you?” Damen purred, reaching around Laurent’s thigh to position his cock at his entrance. “Show me how much, Laurent.”

He guided his cock to push inside him, groaning softly as he did so, his breath washing over Laurent’s chest. Laurent wanted his children. The subject of an heir was political, but knowing that beyond all of it, in the heat of passion when truths were revealed, Laurent wanted his children.

It didn’t occur to him that Laurent might not have known what he was saying, because he’d sounded so confident. It had clearly been rehearsed.

His fingers dug into the muscle of Laurent’s thighs, spreading him further.

“Take all of me,” he demanded. “And ride."

* * *

Laurent had struck a nerve worth striking, it seemed. Damen’s interest had intensified pretty quickly, so Laurent could assume he’d said the phrase with complete accuracy. He grinned, pleased with himself for his efforts. Damen was moving him about, taking his charge, and soon enough, Laurent took him inside, the angle of riding still new and intense, but pleasurable all the same.

He steadied himself with his hands on Damen’s thighs, squeezed into the muscle as he arched his back and found the best angle for easy work. Where this position put Laurent mostly in charge of pace and rhythm, it was no easy feat to touch himself in this position.

He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

The first curse that left his lips was very much Veretian, an accident of subconscious as took the rest of Damen inside of him, his own thighs already shaking with Laurent’s forever hold on control. He could feel heat radiating from Damen’s body, could hear his soft panting as Laurent adjusted. Damen was not pushing. Yet.

Laurent began slowly at first, easing himself into it. Damen could take him a thousand times, but needing to adjust was natural. At least learn back he had a say in how much he took. The moment Laurent would undoubtedly decide to hunch forward, to hold and kiss Damen as he sought release, he would be forced to put all of his weight right on Damen’s cock, taking the extent of what he could inside of his body.

It would be a few minutes before then, yet.

* * *

Damen was full of noises as Laurent filled himself with his cock. He adjusted too, gathering his claves somewhat beneath him to be able to thrust up when it was time. He kissed the hollow of Laurent’s neck, moaned against his skin as he felt Laurent’s thighs quiver where they braced his hips. It was slow going, but Damen didn’t mind. He knew Laurent would be inpatient the moment he was settled.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Damen asked, moving his hand between them to find Laurent’s cock. He had noticed he often softened when Damen first sheathed inside him, and he wanted to help. Besides, Laurent had to focus on holding himself at an angle, not touching himself.

“We can change positions,” he grunted out. “If you’d rather me fill you with heirs another way.”

He’d spoken in Veretian without realizing it, but quickly changed back to Akielon to curse and finally rock his hips forward, still fisting Laurent’s cock with a lazy rhythm to keep him occupied.

“You’re so good,” he praised in Akielon. “Talented."

* * *

“You would like honesty?” Laurent chuckled breathlessly as he rocked his hips, opening himself up a little more on Damen. He paused for a moment when Damen reached between them to stroke Laurent’s flagging cock back to hardness. He was grateful for that.

“It is not pain,” Laurent assured him. “Only...how do you say ‘brief discomfort’?” Damen had a sizeable and proportionate cock. It wasn’t ever going to be an easy task taking him.

But Laurent did not want an easy task. He liked that discomfort, liked to really /feel/ Damen inside of him, stretching him, liked to feel the connection between them. It was another connection Laurent had never truly had with another. It still felt new.

Laurent did not even realise Damen had spoken Veretian until the words registered in Laurent’s head. As opposed to heirs as he was - and as unaware of what he’d said just a few moments prior - the idea Damen created definitely interested Laurent. He groaned at the very thought alone, subconsciously taking Damen a little harder on his own accord.

It should have been insulting, should have been shameful, to be aroused by the idea of king making and taking the role of the woman, but Laurent had no such thought. Such a thought as that would never be the one or bother him.

He was hard again, panting a bit more audibly, taking his pleasure a bit more fervently, before he finally broke into his Akielon vocabulary.

“A different position,” Laurent agreed between heavy breaths, but he made no move to pull off Damen. He wanted to move, not to end this. He had his power up here, but he...didn’t /want/ it. He’d had it, would have it in the future. Damen deserved it now.

The “Fill me, take me, fuck me,” that followed the thought was entirely in Veretian.

* * *

Damen could tell Laurent would want to change position. Talk of kingmaking seemed to arouse him as much as it did Damen, and he was more than happy to oblige. Laurent was allowing him to do as he pleased, much as Soren had at the inn—he very much appreciated that he got the chance to fuck Laurent as a king this way.

“As you wish,” he breathed with a smirk. He gripped Laurent’s hips and guided him off of his cock, shivering when cold air hit his leaking dick. Their pace had been much too slow, but Damen would never complain.

He got himself out from under the furs and curled his fingers into Laurent’s hair, guiding him up so that he could use the chaise seat as a place to rest his arms. The view was excellent.

“Spread,” he commanded, fighting every urge to mount. His restraint was thick in his voice, too. Laurent was simply too beautiful this way, any man who saw him like this would not be able to stop himself.

When he felt he’d given Laurent enough time to settle, Damen positioned himself at Laurent’s entrance and slid inside, moaning unabashedly at the sensation of sheathing himself in one stuttering push. “Laurent,” he gasped out, gripping his hips and tugging him back with a bit of roughness. “How do you get so tight?”

He rested a moment, panting as the pleasure rolled over him, but hot desire soon came back, hungry.

“I want your children.” He kept hearing it, but he wanted Laurent to say it again.

“Tell me again,” Damen demanded as he began to thrust. “What you want."

* * *

Laurent couldn’t stop looking over his shoulder at Damen as he lined himself up with Laurent again. Poised and propped, Laurent was ready to take Damen again, aching for it, really. He even wiggled his hips as if it might entice Damen to move a little faster.

It did, and not a moment later, Laurent was facedown in his arms, letting out restrained little breaths of pleasure as Damen sunk back into him. He arched his back for a better angle, gripped at the chaise to ground himself.

“I want your children,” Laurent said again in Akielon, not at all realising that he truly had been the one to start this little scenario of theirs. He just assumed talk of an heir had turned into /this/ as an outlet for Damen. He didn’t mind it.

“Give it to me,” Laurent demanded, as he was so apt to do, pushing himself back onto Damen - and seeing white for a second when he did. He’d hit a nerve - or, more fittingly, a bundle of them. Another Veretian curse left his lips, along with a breathy, “Fuck me...fill me.” His mentality on the languages waned again already.

Laurent lifted his head to free his arm, reached between his own legs to first feel where he and Damen were connected. It always fascinated him that, just how close they could be. He marvelled our something holy in Veretian. From there, his hands found his own cock, lolling between his thighs with every thrust, and took hold of it. He’d be chasing his own pleasure soon enough if Damen’s vivacity said anything about it.

* * *

Laurent had such a filthy mouth. Damen had a feeling that in years to come their bedchamber would be more filled with words like these, the more comfortable Laurent became with him, the more at ease they felt in ruling. He could easily see them spending weeks out of the year going off to Sicyan to fuck in the summer palace for days on end, to be as loud as they wished to be, as free as they wished to be.

He groaned when that beautiful phrase fell from Laurent’s lips a second time, and Damen responded with an increase in pace and roughness. He helped to tug Laurent back to him to meet every thrust, and gritted out his name when he felt Laurent’s fingers at the base of his cock—the mere thought of Laurent wanting to feel where they joined was sent him hurdling toward release. So much so that he was tempted to feel for himself, but instead bottomed out a rut and held there for a moment, taking in the vision that was Laurent beneath him.

He adjusted his hips, then reached down to spread Laurent’s thighs wider. “I could fuck you a thousand times,” Damen grunted as he started in again, lifting Laurent slightly with each thrust. “It would never be enough. I can never—have enough of you.”

His fingers took hold of Laurent’s hair and tugged his head up, but he was trying to at least have some sense of gentleness about it as he did so.

Laurent would have been named a siren had he been born a woman. He only had to think about Laurent’s fingers at their joining and he came, releasing Laurent’s hair to brace himself on the chaise as he continued fucking into him, shallow thrusts slick with his release. Despite their coupling the night before, Damen had significantly more to give this time.

“Enough heirs?” he teased before groaning through an aftershock of pleasure. This time he did reach down to feel where they joined, pressing against Laurent’s stretched entrance to see if that would give him any pleasure.

“You know you can’t leave me after this,” he panted hot into Laurent’s ear. “I will have you in the baths, then pleasure you while you dress. And when I am finished training I want to have you once more in my armor, and again without it. Until I cannot stand."

* * *

Laurent would let Damen fuck him a thousand times, he thought. He’d have no issue with it. It would be tiring, and maybe sometimes my exactly what Laurent felt he wanted to do, but having Damen inside of him, feeling that connection - and the love that came with it when it was there - would change his mind quickly enough. Feeling wanted did not hurt, and Laurent understanding his own desires couldn’t hurt either.

And /this/, he desired.

“Harder,” he groaned out in Akielon, reaching behind him to touch Damen however he could. He ended up with his hand awkwardly clung to Damen’s hip, but Laurent held all the same. If nothing else, it kept his back arched properly, kept him perfectly presented for Damen.

When Damen tugged his head up, he found the means to throw his arm back, to hold Damen’s head and pull him in for a sloppy, sideways kiss, where Laurent really only groaned into his mouth. He was not as loud as he had been as Soren, but this was still pretty vocal for Laurent, whose usual sounds during sex were his filthy words and a few restrained breaths.

Laurent, though very much enjoying it as Damen filled him, had most of the mind not to release all over his chaise when he did cum, but that left him with his own stomach covered from where he’d truly been unable to hold back. The warmth, the feeling of Damen spilling inside of him was too much.

He leaned back against Damen in the aftershocks, breathing hard, hands and thighs shaking with it all. He took a moment there, coming down, before he spoke with Damen.

“Enough heirs,” he chuckled out in Akielon before looking down at himself and grimacing.

“What you are suggesting certainly staggers the day,” Laurent went on in Veretian as he, ever so gracefully, fell back on Damen, effectively taking them both down onto the too-lightly covered floor. He let out a soft, “Oof,” before looking back at Damen, pressed beneath him.

“It seems /you/ cannot leave /me/, however.”

* * *

Damen let out a little grunt of pain when Laurent teased back against him to take them both to the floor, his cock too soft to stay inside Laurent as he wished to. But he was too full of bliss to complain much, and instead gathered Laurent in his arms where he was splayed across his chest.

“Are you opposed to a day spent making love?” he asked, drawing idle shapes on Laurent’s chest.

He’d needed that fuck about as much as he had needed the first. Things felt as they had before, a balance restored. And it seemed on some level they had even reached an agreement that Laurent /wanted/ children, even if he didn’t want them at the moment. It was more than he could have hoped.


	3. Chapter 3

Damen kept his promises. He took Laurent once more in the baths, quicker but no less passionate, and once they were through washing he tried his hand at pleasuring Laurent amongst the lace of his day clothes. It was time consuming, but Damen was more than willing.

His men couldn’t hide their grins when he finally joined them in the field, fresh-faced and smiling like a fool. Cassius shook his head, but he was chuckling all the while. It seemed Damianos had properly returned to himself.

* * *

Blissfully sated and in a strikingly similar mood to Damen, Laurent did manage to dress and start something of a day.

He battled with the idea of visiting Fynn when he strode down the hallway, stopped for a moment at Fynn’s door, but after a moment of waffling, he decided to continue on. He would need to speak with Damen on that, first. Usually, Laurent would fully make the decision himself, someone else’s opinion be damned, but he would set aside his pride and independence until he and Damen were a bit more...sturdy.

In his hours away from Damen, he even held a few meetings - mainly with Lucien and Lady Vannes. He had work to do to recreate his bond with the Lady, and Lucien had information regarding a charge of hers, so it made sense to Laurent. She would never admit it, but Laurent swore he could see warmth in her smile - and it was not just because Laurent had clearly been bedded and she damn well knew it. She kept her comments to herself on that and, with Jord chaperoning his pet, they spoke on the lives and cultures of pets and slaves, began a working relationship.

Vannes seemed more than happy to pursue /her/ idea, especially as it was so clear she thought Jeurre’s to have been a total flop. She could see her time to shine was coming, and she took it graciously.

With that underway, Laurent made his worst decision of the day, which was to take Ven out and about the training field for a bit of practice in spear-throwing.

He learned his mistake instantly, and pride alone got him through the first hour before he retired it for the day.

Paperwork followed, and then a conversation with Jord about training Lucien properly in the coming weeks. Jord did not like the idea at all, thinking it meant Laurent would make a soldier out of him, but when Laurent mentioned more of a dignitary role, Jord didn’t argue from the inability to fathom alone.

It wasn’t until he and Damen were back in bed, wound in each other’s arms again, that Laurent openly confessed, “I believe you fully undid me today. My legs were like a Kemptian squid well through dinner.”

* * *

Damen spent the rest of his day listening to reports from a messenger about how Akielos was faring through winter. It bothered him greatly that he was so far away during their most vulnerable time of year, and the people weren’t exactly pleased either. But Nikandros was doing well to keep everyone happy, and Damen spent some time writing to the Kyoto to try to bolster their spirits. It was easy to be encouraging when he was so happy himself.

Everyone noticed their good spirits at dinner, and Damen couldn’t help but touch Laurent at any opportune time: a brush of his knee, the touch of their hands. Flirtatious and new again.

It too long to be in bed again, Laurent pressed against him. He kissed all over his neck, his shoulder, his jaw.

“And here I thought I was making you weak with my touch,” Damen teased, nosing Laurent’s cheek affectionately.

“So, has Jord agreed to Lucien’s training? He looked sour, so I guessed you must have won in some way.”

* * *

“He thinks I am up to no good,” Laurent murmured with a laugh, knowing just the face Damen was alluding to. Jord had so few expressions, but every one was oh so telling. “Something nefarious and unjust for the boy. He does not know what to think of it, but he has agreed. They will go tomorrow to buy him a sword fitting for his height, and we will train in the coming weeks.”

Laurent believed himself almost too rusty to train the boy just yet. He would need to get back into the arena himself, make sure he was still someone worth the responsibility of teaching in the first place.

He turned to kiss Damen softly, for Laurent did still realise how lucky he was to be in this position still, wrapped in Damen’s arms, close with him in bed. Laurent bore the light bruising of their lovemaking from that day, and he would not trade a singular mark for anything.

“I rode Ven today,” Laurent did laugh outright the moment the thought hit him. “I’d no one to train with, so I thought to throw spears, and I...decided to /ride/ a /horse/.”

He was quite tickled with the thought.

* * *

“He is generally right,” Damen teased, moving his hand down Laurent’s back. He loved the dip in his spine, the muscle somehow so hidden in a lithe frame. He met the kiss with equal affection, still happy to receive one when the last few days had been so difficult for them.

“I had heard that,” he chuckled. “But I thought you would hide your mistake.” Even so, Damen felt some trust renew that Laurent would tell him something unkind to his spotless reputation in training and ability.

Damen moves his hand down to Laurent’s hip to massage the predictably right muscle there. “You could have asked for me. Though I doubt we would have been training long, so perhaps that was wise.”

“Did you speak with Fynn today?” he asked, continuing his massage. “He looked in good spirits.”

* * *

For as lax as Damen had him in just a few moments of a massage, Laurent tended right up at the mention on Fynn. He was not used to Damen being the one to bring him up, would not count that as safe at all. He did not like the idea of another fight, had wanted to bring it up organically.

He would tread carefully.

“I had not seen him today,” Laurent said honestly, forcing himself to relax again. “I thought to, but—“

He’d almost lied right there, told Damen he’d had more pressing matters. Laurent would not do that that, would not undermine his trust with Damen so quickly out of impulse alone.

“I did not want to upset you,” Laurent landed on honestly. “Losing you was not worth a conversation that could be misconstrued. Not before we had come to some sort of...settlement on all of that.”

* * *

Damen noticed Laurent tense up, and prepared himself in kind. He expected to be lied to, for Laurent to tell him that he hadn’t felt the need to see Fynn, that it hadn’t crossed his mind. But he knew better. He knew the hold Fynn still had on him, even if it wasn’t romantic.

Instead, Laurent explained himself, and made the rare choice to be vulnerable and honest. That took Damen by surprise more than a lie would have, and he found himself breaking his gaze to process it for a moment.

“Thank you,” he decided to say first. “For choosing to wait.” he wasn’t sure if he would have been upset had Laurent seen Fynn, but…well, he probably would have. It was still a point of pain. One night was not enough to salve that wound completely.

"It doesn’t need to be a settlement,” he said next, uncomfortable with the term. “I would just prefer that…you either speak together with some kind of chaperone if you plan to have private discussions. Jord, Pallas, or Lazar. Or have them in open view.”

He frowned. That sounded awfully restrictive.

“For now,” he amended. “Until I’m comfortable with you two as…friends."

* * *

It took a lot for Laurent not to snap. The idea that he would need a /chaperone/ instantly sat wrong with him, and he had to set his jaw to keep himself quiet. He did not want to fight - he truly and sincerely did not - but it was not the easiest decision to process so quickly.

Of course, that was because Laurent knew he would not do anything with Fynn. Damen still did not have that trust.

That was not a trust that Laurent deserved just yet. He had to remind himself of that.

Laurent took a moment of silence to work that over, his fingers drawn up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he mentally settled himself, told himself it was a reasonable request from Damen. Unfortunately, it was something like control Laurent had to give to Damen there, and it was difficult to give up so willingly.

“I thought to train with him,” Laurent said very suddenly, looking for an out to this conversation while also testing what these parameters Damen had begun to set were. If Laurent’s tone could be labelled as anything, it would have been ‘pained.’ Laurent so clearly did not want to do this.

His hand moved from his eyes to find Damen’s hand, which he took and held in hopes of relaying he meant this in the best spirits he could muster.

“Is the arena ‘open view’ enough?”

* * *

Ah yes, the hurt. Damen knew Laurent well, and he could see the emotions pass across his face: the anger, the grating frustration. He didn’t think he was asking for all that much, but evidently Laurent did. Which meant Laurent wanted private company with Fynn, intimate company. Again. And that hurt, cut him straight to the marrow.

He even found it in him to be hurt by the fact that Laurent wanted to train with Fynn, and he hadn’t even asked him. They hadn’t trained together in ages, yet Laurent didn’t seem to think that was worth mentioning.

He is trying, he told himself. He could have lied. He could have gone and spent time with Fynn that day and avoided the truth. Instead Laurent had chosen not to see him, for Damen.

“I am not opposed to you training with him,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. Trying not to accuse. It helped that Laurent was holding his hand, and Damen thumbed at his palm to try to convey his sincerity.

“Please,” he said quietly, and Damen seldom begged in any respect. “I’m not punishing you. You want a solution that allows you to spend time with him and does not upset me, right? For now, those are my conditions.”

Perhaps this was a settlement after all.

* * *

Laurent could only nod at first, could not find a single word or phrase that felt fitting for this moment. So much was going through his head that he had to work through. They were not thoughts Damen could do away with, nothing he needed to hear. Trust lost was not to easily recovered. This would take time, whether Laurent liked it or not. He should know that better than anyone.

He pulled from his own thoughts when he heard Damen beg, and Laurent knew, if no other time, this was a perfect moment to reason out his thoughts with Damen.

“What you are asking is not unreasonable,” Laurent did manage, but he’d moved to his back now, had his hands over his eyes as if he’d suddenly taken on a headache. “/I/ am being unreasonable. And I am aware of it. I’ve a natural inclination to acting wretchedly.”

An attempt at making light of it was at least one positive sign.

* * *

“You said it, not me,” Damen teased slightly. “You are not wretched.” He pressed a kiss to Laurent’s shoulder, moved his hand over Laurent’s stomach to feel the bumps of his hip bones.

He adjusted himself on the pillow, snuggling up against Laurent while still on his side.

“Akielos grows uneasy,” he said, changing the subject. “They have gone through most of the winter without their king. I have to go back soon, darling.”

He didn’t want to leave after such an ordeal, but he couldn’t be here forever. Their union was not far away, and he had to plan his wedding party to arrive with all of the dressings to decorate his caravans, including a wagon of traditional gifts and jewelry for Laurent. The gold chains would be included, and a covering of translucent silk with gold embroidery.

“In two days I’ll announce my intention to stay the course,” he murmured. “Though I am sure it will come as no surprise to anyone now.”

* * *

“It is not a safe time to travel,” Laurent pointed out as he turned into Damen’s hold to face him. “Your men would freeze. It’s best to stay until the last possible moment. When there is no time left to plan for the wedding.” He did hole, but it truly would be a treacherous adventure back to Akielos all the way up until the border. He did not want to see Damen suffer through that.

He did not want to see Damen go.

They had only just found their way back together, and it all felt too unstable to put distance between them so soon. Perhaps it was selfish, but Laurent was not yet ready for Damen to leave.

“Stay until the month is gone,” Laurent bartered hopefully, putting logic in front of his feelings. “We still have so much to discuss, so much to plan that would be impossible over letters. We need to solidify the ideals that come with the union, speak with the council—“

They needed to work together. They’d lost so much time.

“Certainly that is not unreasonable.”

* * *

“You said that a month ago, my love,” Damen murmured, tucking a strand of blond behind Laurent’s ear. “I can’t just leave for the wedding. I have to be home with my people to unite them behind us when we wed. I feel too distant to them.” The cold would be miserable, but he had endured the beginning of winter to get here.

He pressed a kiss to Laurent’s forehead, pulling him closer due to the painful subject. Of course he didn’t want to go, but he was a king, not a prince who could leave the ruling to someone else.

“I can stay another week,” he offered. “If I wait until the month is gone, winter will be over and my people will feel I abandoned them a whole season—and I have. I must go to Ios.”

Ios was home, but only in his history. Home was wherever Laurent was, and being without him was something he didn’t want to think about.

“Perhaps I can announce our union tomorrow,” he continued. “And that I will be returning home soon. That will quell the thoughts that I am gone for you—though I am."

* * *

“It is too soon,” Laurent lamented, hating the very idea of Damen leaving in only a week. That was hardly enough time for them. They had only just reunited, and without having Damen’s trust, a number of things could go wrong. If doubt of any sort was seeded into Damen’s brain, a union could be off the table before Laurent even arrived in Ios for their preparations.

It wasn’t just Laurent’s happiness that hinges on this - it was the future of Vere. They had already argued, hinted at a war between the two kingdoms, at how easily Vere would fall.

Laurent just needed a few weeks more. He’d be able to fix everything with a few more weeks.

“Two more weeks,” he tried hopefully, fingers settling on Damen’s chest, trying to coerce him through light touches. “There’s no need to rush the announcement, harbour any doubt. I’ve no interest in being beheaded for...unholy coercion or anything like that. Surely, that is fair.”

* * *

“Two weeks is half the month,” Damen returned softly. “Ten days, but that is the longest I can stay.” He knew things were not as strong as they wanted them to be, but he couldn’t risk damaging Laurent’s reputation further by staying in Arles.

He kissed him then, softly and sweetly. “No one will touch you,” he promised. “They can see how much I care for you. They can call me a mad king if they wish, they will shut up when we rule this kingdom to be the best in history.”

He tried not to think about how Fynn would still be here, walking the halls and talking to Laurent and no one would know if he decided to meet with him in private.

“Ten days is plenty of time to settle the critics if we start in on them tomorrow,” he murmured. “I will be with you every step of the way, by your side."

* * *

It would have to be enough. Even as Laurent searched Damen’s eyes for some give, for some part of him he could chase after to change his mind, he knew there was none. Ten days would have to be enough - whether Laurent liked it or not.

“I do not like it,” Laurent said aloud, tapping the tip of Dames nose as if trying to make light of the situation. “The travel will be harsh. You will be miserable.”

But Akielos waited for its king. If places were reversed, Laurent would need to leave Damen as well, and so it would be until they had established the border as the new capitol. Marlas - the new capitol for ‘the great something.’

Auguste would be proud.

“Ten days will have to do,” Laurent did begrudgingly agree. If they did not part, they did not plan, and if they did not plan, they did not wed. This was how it had to be. This was their responsibility.

“But not a day less, Damianos,” Laurent warned.

* * *

Damen smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Laurent’s cheek when he tapped his nose. He couldn’t resist, Laurent was simply too adorable. “I will hate it the whole time,” he promised. “But never more than when I bed down in my tent without you to keep me warm.”

He rested his forehead against Laurent’s, taking a moment of quiet with him. They weren’t as strong as they had been before Fynn’s arrival, but they were definitely much closer to that. Leaving wasn’t going to be pleasant, but he wasn’t going to be leaving Laurent behind for good.

“They will have to drag me away,” Damen murmured, giving Laurent a fond kiss. “But that means we will need to plan our union starting tomorrow.” They needed to have much more of a plan, now that it was much closer. “I do not even know Veretian wedding customs. Will you be able to see me before we are wed? And will we have any time to be alone together before…” He frowned. “Must we really consummate our marriage in front of all of them?"

* * *

They /would/ have to drag Damen away. Laurent would not be so reasonable as to let him go easily. Parting from Marlas had been easy for he knew he would see Damen in a month’s time, and they had been so blissfully and irrevocably in love in their time together there. This time, there had been hiccups and fights, and Laurent would not see Damen again before the final days before their union.

“I am breaking enough of our traditions,” Laurent murmured to Damen, “I’ll not do away with the one tradition that will see our marriage validated in Vere.” Consummation was not even a real option for them - not as it had been in the past. It would only be a symbol of their union - and unfortunately, it was the one that mattered most in Vere.

“I am not looking forward to it either,” Laurent did inform Damen after a soft little kiss of reassurance. “But if I must bare myself in totality to show my love for you on the day that matters the most, I will do it.”

And that /would/ be when it mattered the most. Laurent’s vulnerability would be put on full display - the both of theirs would. Laurent already had it planned - how he would make barely any noise for his own sake, would close his arms around Damen’s head, keep the world between the two of them and block those outside - and Vere would gossip about it for years. But it was worth it to have Damen lawfully seen at his side.

“Before that however,” Laurent started, “there is a private ceremony we will attend - just you and I and the council. Documents and whatnot will he signed, and then you will not be able to see me a full day before the wedding. Traditionally, it is for the bride to be with her family. For us, it will just be...anticipation.”

He smiled, brushed the back of his fingers over Damen’s cheek.

“What of Akielon traditions?” Laurent asked. “Will I need to wrestle you in the square? Drink until I cannot stand?”

* * *

The consummation was the one thing Damen dreaded about their wedding day. Even after their near-public displays as Soren and Lamen, and his refusal to stop pleasuring Laurent last time they were interrupted, Damen had no desire to let anyone /watch/ their coupling. Most of all, he loathed that Laurent would be bared for all to see in a way he had never permitted himself to be seen.

And Damen would be participating in that horrible thing.

“Well, since I will not be with you, Nikandros will have me drunk and foolish by noon,” Damen muttered. “Akielon weddings are an ordeal,” he chuckled. “We also require the couple to spend a day with family before the wedding.” He reached over to twirl a lock of Laurent’s hair around his finger. “And the bride cuts a lock of hair and tosses it into a body of water during some point “It seems /you/ cannot leave /me/, however.”  
in this day. There is feasting, wine, general merriment.”

“Then, the wedding day.” He smiled despite himself. He hadn’t though much beyond seeing Laurent in wedding attire, kissing him and being able to call him husband. “First we’re bathed separately, with Akielon perfumes and oils specifically for marriage. Then there is a feast attended by both households, but seated separately. There is a ceremony, but the wedding is not complete until we ride in a chariot together and you are brought from the ceremony and to our new home. Our marriage begins when I bring you into our home. I suppose that would mean into our apartments? Or perhaps the palace itself.”

He closed his eyes. “Then if you were a woman, I would take you to our bedchamber and remove your veil—it’s an important ritual for us. Perhaps there will be something we do. And then we are left alone until the following day, when our friends and family present gifts and gather with us in our home.”

He opened his eyes, resting his palm on Laurent’s cheek. “I am already breaking every tradition by sleeping in your chambers. The idea is that we have not lived together until you enter my home, but traditionally you are supposed to be a woman, so.”

Damen pressed a kiss to Laurent’s lips. “I would not have it any other way."

* * *

“Does this mean I will lose a lock of hair or you will?” Laurent teased quietly with a smug little smirk on his fiancé. “I do not think I quite understand who is the ‘bride’ in this scenario.”

Laurent knew it was him. And it was not because of their difference in size and stature, had nothing to do with their strength. It was simply that Laurent did not care if he took on the more feminine roles - especially because most of them were form his own culture.

“Perhaps you could just remove my crown at the end of the day,” Laurent jested, his eyelids giving way to the comfort he felt and the desire for sleep he had been hiding. He did not want to sleep, did not want to lose a single hour with Damen. There was still so much to be done.

“Or—“

Laurent raised his cuffed wrist above their heads, making quite an elegant display of the marks of their past they shared.

“What if we removed these? On our wedding night? From each other?”

They could do something with them, keep them around, of course, but perhaps it would be the best time to move forward from what they symbolised, to step into their new lives without them.

“It is not so easy as a veil, but I could not stand to have your face hidden from me.”

Damen in a veil was an entertaining thought.

* * *

Damen didn’t balk at Laurent’s question. He always saw Laurent as sort of his “bride,” but not because Laurent had worn a dress on more than one occasion—it was because Damen had always been raised to marry a woman, to have heirs and set up the line for the crown. He had always imagined a wife, a beautiful woman draped in fine white silks and jewels. Laurent looked nothing like his vision, but he would have it no other way.

Damen looked down at his own cuff when Laurent proposed removing them, unsure. He felt the symbolism would be fitting, but he liked his cuff. When he was away from Laurent, he could hold it close and remember that Laurent had a matching one on his own wrist.

“I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have it,” Damen murmured. “Whenever you’re gone…it’s my reminder of you.”

But they would have to come off eventually, he supposed. Better to remove them for a ceremony of… perhaps the greatest importance in their lives.

“But I suppose, yes, that would be a good idea. You’ll have to give me something else to keep from you. I could commission a small portrait to keep in my trunk.” He rolled onto his back, opening his arm to allow Laurent to settle on his chest for sleep. He looked tired.

“Traditionally, you would come into my home to meet with my mother before we retired,” he murmured. “She would have enjoyed that very much."

* * *

“You will have my ring,” Laurent offered in the stead of their cuffs. “Unless that is not Akielon tradition.” Veretians were much more infatuated with jewellery and fashion and ownership. Laurent could not confess to seeing many Akielon with jewellery as he thought of it.

They would ponder on that later.

“The visit is not far,” Laurent said as he moved right into the sleeping position so natural to him now. Damen had seen it coming. “I could travel a few days prior, meet you in Ios, go to see your mother in the Kingsmeet.”

“That is, of course,” Laurent continued, “if we can behave this time.”

The Kingsmeet was not far from the palace, as Laurent recalled. He was not so sure they would be allowed in again, but...Damen was the king. Certainly that was allowed, even with his past transgressions.

“I think, perhaps, I should travel to Ios before the union, anyway,” Laurent yawner. “You have made appearance in Vere, I should do the same in Ios.” Laurent’s last appearance there had been short-loved and, for the most part, traumatic. “Perhaps two weeks before? Then we could travel to Marlas together for the...entirety of the ceremony.”

* * *

Damen had not remembered that rings were exchanged. “In Akielos they are not a symbol of marriage,” he admitted. “But yes, I would have a ring. I want one.” He had not forgotten wanting to melt their cuffs into rings, but perhaps a new piece of jewelry would better symbolize their new life together.

He gently scratched Laurent’s scalp, his mind wandering o his last memory of Kingsmeet, and how he had broken the oath there. The repercussions weren’t to be ignored, even if most didn’t know of his disobedience there. He didn’t deny it, and he knew it would be a process to rightfully earn his place there again.

“I’m not so sure,” Damen confessed. “Even though everyone in Akielos knows we have been sleeping int he same bed for years now, I have to take tradition into consideration so close to our union. My had not set foot in the palace until my father brought her there as his bride. That is the traditional way of things.”

“You would appear more respectful to the elders if we met in Marlas and I brought you to Ios and into the palace, then traveled back to our new home.” He kissed the crown of Laurent’s head.

He loved him so much, and the thought of him as a husband was something precious to him, especially since he had almost lost him forever.

“Keeping with that tradition, I don’t feel comfortable returning to Kingsmeet until after we’re wed. Marriage is viewed as a transition from childhood to adulthood, so perhaps that will mean I am forgiven for what I did.”

It saddened him to think that the Kyroi might disagree, but he would have to accept their judgement.

“They still are not fully unified behind me. Keeping to tradition is essential to maintain my relations with them."

* * *

Laurent was so used to Damen breaking every rule for him that /he/ almost balked when Damen turned down his offer. But it was tradition, it was respect, it was years and years of history that Laurent had to respect, so he did not argue. Whatever he felt he needed to do for his country, Laurent would agree to.

And soon, he would learn more about it all - firsthand. When that country was his as well.

“They will unify,” Laurent did offer in assurance. “You are well-loved amongst your people. You are an excellent king. They know that.”

Laurent knew that as well.

“You are well-loved here, as well,” Laurent added on, though he knew Damen would doubt it. “You have navigated Veretians as well as I have ever been able to. More support us, I think, than even I understand.” Laurent might even argue many Veretians liked Damen more than Laurent himself, but that was only because Damen was more ‘fun’ than Laurent, he supposed. Damen was easier to empathise with.

“We will respect traditions that do no harm,” Laurent finely acquiesced to Damen’s decision. “I will be patient.”

* * *

“A king is only well-loved until he isn’t,” Damen reminded him. And he certainly didn’t think he was well loved in Vere. The court still threw barbs at him every chance they had, and Lady Vannes only paid him compliments because she seemed to hope he would bed her. He did not have their respect, and certainly did not have the respect that they had for Laurent.

“Vere doesn’t love me yet,” Damen murmured, allowing his eyes to fall closed. “When we are wed, I think I will have a chance.” To them, he was still a beast, and he would always be a princekiller.

He began to trace the line of Laurent’s spine, his telltale signal that it was time to rest. “You? Patient? Hm.” He smiled before pressing a kiss to the crown of Laurent’s head.

“Time to sleep,” he murmured. “Tomorrow will be a busy day."

* * *

They slept a reasonable amount that night. Laurent did not have the energy to disagree with Damen about Vere’s respect or lack thereof. He did try, of course, but he barely got out his disapproving sigh before he fell into sleep.

They decided to have their own kingly conversations in the evening. Laurent thought it best for Damen to appeal to his men about the union while he kept up his training schedule. Laurent himself wanted to train in the open air arena before the sun set and it was much too cold to do so comfortably.

“We will reconvene just after lunch?” Laurent asked that morning as they dressed. Laurent’s training clothes took much longer to slip into than Damen’s, so they had a moment more to converse while Lucien laced the back of Laurent’s vest.

Jord stood just outside the door, ready to /chaperone/ Laurent, as Damen requested.

“I believe we should prioritise The discussion of the /way/ we will be breaking the news of Akielos’ acceptance of the union.” When freed, Laurent crossed the room to press a kiss to Damen’s lips.

“I only have you for nine days more. I need every moment I can have, Damianos.”

* * *

Damen wasn’t nervous about telling his men. They probably all suspected something like a wedding announcement was coming, and he wanted to tell them first before a formal announcement. After a long day of hard training, of course.

He adjusted his greaves, testing the buckles as Laurent was attended by Lucien. Damen almost laughed when he thought to be jealous of Lucien in the very beginning, now he couldn’t imagine the young man even /looking/ at Laurent in a romantic sense.

When Laurent crossed to him, Damen’s arms wound around his waist and he returned the kiss. “I will tell my men. A will send a formal decree to the kyroi with my officiant intend to wed you, but you know Vere best. Should we have a feast? A party?”

Nine days would not be long enough, but he had to go home.

“You know I will be wherever you need me,” he assured Laurent. “Call and i will come running.” He leaned in closer, pressing his lips to the shell of Laurent’s ear, switching to Akielon to whisper: “Demand me and I will gladly be of service.”

He pulled back for another kiss, sweet and loving.

“After lunch,” he finally confirmed. “If you can last that long without me."

* * *

Laurent quite liked Damen whispering in his ear.

He cleared his throat as he took his step back, idly smartening Damen’s chiton before patting his chest—and flicking one of his piercings playfully. For fun.

Lucien turned his head dutifully. Jord had warned him to always find a way to busy himself when their King showed his softer side, lest Lucien’s knowledge of it be held against him later.

“I will test your speed and endurance later,” Laurent teased. “Before or after we discuss Vere’s preferences, you’ll not know. Now, go.” He nodded towards the door. “Before I do not allow it.”

On Damen’s way out, Jord quietly assured him he would be present for Laurent’s training, making sure Laurent was preoccupied before he said it. He knew how Laurent felt about the accompaniment, but the order had been Laurent’s own. Jord was a simple man, but not a foolish one. He knew why Laurent asked it of him.

With Damen gone, Laurent made his way to Fynn’s door, Jord a few good yards behind him - vigilant, but not overbearing. Lucien stood with him, as any pet would his master. They watched as Laurent /knocked/.

He had been avoiding Fynn for days now; it did not feel right to just barge in as he had before.

* * *

Fynn was not in the best of moods. The sting of rejection was a painful one, though he knew now that Laurent had made his choice and would not be persuaded. but returning to Kempt with no ties to Vere would be an embarrassment heaped on top of an already shameful situation. He’d left home certain he would return with Laurent’s hand. Now he would return alone.

Seeing Laurent so enamored with Damen at the past few meals had been torturous for him, but it was getting a little easier each time. He didn’t wish he was in Damen’s place per se, but the thought of a life alone without such affection seemed to be his destiny now.

So he was surprised when he heard a knock at his door. He was mostly presentable—a black silk blouse with billowing sleeves of Kemptian fashion, black pants with gold lacing to fasten them. His blond hair was a bit of a mess, but with a few clawings with his fingers he looked decent enough for company.

“Oh, Laurent,” he greeted when he opened the door. The sight of Laurent alone made him nervous, and he glanced around for Damen. Jord stood several paces away with Lucien, both of them watching carefully and pretending not to.

“Yes, well—“ He stepped aside, gesturing for Laurent to enter. “Do you want to—er, will Damianos be joining us? Has—Oh, where are my manners.” He bowed quickly. "Come in, Your Majesty."

* * *

Fynn looked well. Splendid and comfortable, still in his leisure clothing. He looked rested, well, and...perplexed. Laurent could assume Fynn had not been expecting visitors, it seemed, let alone one who had been avoiding him for days now.

Especially not alone.

Laurent could have sent a messenger, sure, but this was something he wanted to do himself. They had not seen each other in days, and Laurent owed his presence to Fynn at the very least. He owed him attention, banter, something familiar. It was the absolute very least he could do after what Fynn had done for home. They were friends, able to read one another—

And Laurent could not manage with thinking that relationship gone.

“Manners? For me?” Laurent asked, his brow arching in amusement as he stood his ground, arms crossed over his chest, eyes raking Fynn. “Have you fallen ill again? Should I call for Paschal?”

Laurent had purposefully not stepped inside Fynn’s chambers. He hoped it was not so obviously a conscious choice.

“Damianos is out training with his men in the Akielon camp,” Laurent offered after a moment, knowing Fynn well enough to see what he was doing, searching the hall for Damen, as if Laurent might have come here without his blessing - as if this might turn into a fight later.

It might, but it would not be for Fynn.

“I thought we might train together, you and I.” Laurent spoke smoothly, easily, as if nothing had ever happened - because he did oh so want to pretend it had not. He wanted this - he wanted /friendship/ to be easy. “With my guard and his pet as...royally appointed escort.”

He could not see a point in hiding it. Perhaps if Fynn just /knew/, he would more easily accept that this had been sanctioned by Damen.

In so many words.

* * *

Fynn smiled at the little quip, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His nose was still in bad shape from Damen nearly breaking it, and his black eyes were still a dull red. He didn’t think he’d escape alive if Damianos decided to go after him a second time.

He was about to politely refuse for that reason when Laurent mentioned that they would be escorted. That had to have been Damianos’s decision, which meant that he knew about this meeting. Training session—whatever it was Laurent was calling it.

“I’ve heard tales of your swordsmanship,” Fynn finally said. “I suppose I should see it for myself if I am being offered the chance, hm?”

He had to pull on his boots, but it didn’t take long. Laurent wasn’t coming into his room, and he knew that was the right choice.

When he was ready, he offered Laurent his arm. “Which training arena? I heard you commissioned a private one."


	4. Chapter 4

Fynn agreed, and Laurent smiled, pleased that he would do so despite what had happened.

While he readied, Laurent turned to Jord who, the moment he caught his king’s eye, looked away. Lucien followed suit not a second later, and Laurent could not help but find it...cute.

“It is an enclosed ring just off the side of one of the armouries,” Laurent informer Fynn as he took his arm. It was a customary gesture, after all. Laurent saw no harm in it. “It will block our most of the wind.” Which would not matter to those physically exerting themselves with swordplay. Lucien and Jord who had been commissioned to just /watch/, however....

They would be grateful.

Laurent led the way, noting the distance Jord gave them.

“How have you been?” Laurent asked as they strolled through the hall together. The whispering had already begun again, but Laurent did not let it stop him. Veretians whispered. It’s what they did. “How are you-“ he hesitated to ask, “-healing?”

* * *

Fynn wasn’t worried about being too cold until he remembered what had happened at the beginning of al of this. He’d already been in Vere more than a month. He’d nearly gotten Laurent killed twice over now, as well as himself.

“Are you sure an outdoor arena is the best idea?” he asked with a chuckle. He flicked his gaze back to Jord and Lucien, his mood momentarily souring at how lovestruck Lucien looked as he leaned against Jord and spoke sweetly to him.

He turned his attention back to Laurent when he asked how he was doing. “well, you’re not permitted to aim at my face,” he teased. “I’m…” He realized Laurent may have been asking not just about his physical healing.

“To be truthful, it is lonely,” he said quietly. “My face has been in pain since the incident, some days better than others. but I’ve lived with worse. Though I do think I’ll have a permanent scar on my cheek—Damianos has sharp knuckles.”

Holding Laurent’s arm didn’t spark anything in him anymore, he realized. Damen had seen to that.

“I suppose I am realizing how much I longed for marriage,” he admitted. “Or at least someone to share life with. My father will be delighted to hear it when I return. I’m sure he has a dozen women in waiting."

* * *

Lonely.

Laurent knew that feeling all too well, knew the way he held heavy in the heart, burdened the body, but he had long since learned to be alone.

Well— that was almost laughable now. What a silly thought. Laurent has been alone most of what he considered his adulthood - starting at the age of thirteen - and he had found strength in it. He’d found a way to thrive in loneliness...and now he was a man who begged his lover to /stay/.

He hated that Fynn had no lover to beg to stay.

He wished he knew of someone worthy of Fynn.

“You are one of the few men who has the honour of saying you battled Damianos and lived,” Laurent tried at humour. “It is an exquisite feat.”

The scar did not mar or maim Fynn’s face in any way. In fact, it almost sharpened his lines, made him look distinguished. It certainly would not keep him from finding someone should he have the strength to keep looking.

“You will draw anyone you give a chance to, you need not worry,” Laurent assured him, and he loved that they could still just /talk/ like this, that despite all which they’d gone through in this month, Laurent still had a friend. “Once they move past your personality, you are actually quite tolerable.”

* * *

Fynn snorted. “It was hardly a battle,” he scoffed. “I would have been killed had you not jumped to my aid. Which—thank you. I never thanked you for that.” Had Laurent not been there Damen would likely have killed him right there in the middle of the hall. He was lucky the first punch hadnt knocked him unconscious or done something more serious.

“And what if I’m tired of searching?” Fynn asked with a hint of his despair. He didn’t want to search. He’d wanted Laurent, or someone like him. The thought of meeting a new person, enduring weeks and months of getting to know them only to have a /chance/ at a fruitful courtship sounded horrific. He truly could not think of something worse to waste his time with.

“If I were a woman I’d be considered an old maid,” he lamented. He gripped tighter to Laurent’s arm for a moment when they finally stepped outside, immediately shivering in the cold. He hadn’t brought his coat because of the expected activities, but now he wasn’t so sure that had been a good idea.

He opened the gate to the area for Laurent, and released his arm to let him pass through.

“Am I right to assume you and Damianos have recovered?” he asked, perhaps a bit suddenly. “Or have you figured out the ingredients for a love potion?” Because, well, the change had seemed rather sudden.

He didn’t say what he felt, which was that Laurent must be pure ecstasy in bed to garner such a reaction from such an angry king. An Akielon king, at that.

* * *

“I consider you an old maid as you are now,” Laurent said to Fynn as they walked on, not taking his berating of himself seriously. He wouldn’t let Fynn wallow. It was not fitting. “A /distinguished/ old maid, if that is any help.”

They stepped into the arena, and though it was chilly, the brisk air would be fitting for a skirmish. Good for the lungs and all that.

“As far as I am concerned, /you/ were the one who brewed a love potion,” Laurent countered when Fynn so boldly moved into Laurent and Damens relationship. He did not have the same aversion he’d had in talking about Fynn with Damen, but he definitely had the same guilt. He just had to wade through it.

“I am not sure what you truly said to him,” Laurent went on, “And I do not know how to properly thank you for saying it, but I do believe we have...mostly recovered. As you can imagine, Damianos is still...healing as well.”

With that, Laurent pulled a practice sword from one of the barrels along the arena, handed it to Fynn by its blunt blade. Laurent then picked out his own. Any man could fight with a sword fitted to his body, but to take an unbalanced and chipped sword and still spar with it well was something else entirely.

Jord and Lucien took their seat across the arena, far enough away to watch the two only. Jord has seemingly made his own compromise between what both kings truly wanted.

“Have you a type?” Laurent asked Fynn as he took up his spot. “Or is it just blonde and fitfully averted to the sun?”

* * *

Fynn could not imagine what the fight had been like for Laurent. He had simply done the best he could to ensure Damianos saw how lucky he was, and how devoted Laurent was to him. Thankfully, it had worked. Otherwise they would be on the brink of war, and Laurent might have been forced to marry him just to save Vere from an Akielon onslaught.

“I don’t need to remind you to be gentle with him,” Fynn murmured. “Especially around me. Jord and Lucien can only provide so much for him to trust.”

At the question of his type, Fynn first thought Laurent meant a type of sword. He did rather like sabers, he enjoyed how quick and easy they were to wield. But he soon discovered that was not what laurent had meant at all.

“I find I am attracted more to personality,” he replied, testing the weight of his sword. “Someone I can spent time with, who has a brain that is used.” He’d found enough company over the years to fit that description.

“But it is taxing to give yourself away. Almost worse to seem too eager, too invested.” As he was sure Vere thought him to be about Laurent. And they weren’t necessarily wrong.

He dashed forward to make a few easy strikes, to warm them both up. Fynn hadn’t used a sword in months.

“What about you? Have you secretly lusted for the Akielon features?"

* * *

Laurent did not need reminding of who to be gentle around, no. He was doing as Damen had asked, and he would not be fine anything more than Jord and Lucien /could/ provide trust for. Laurent was nearly offended Fynn would suggest such an idea, but he let it slide, focused on his blade sliding along Fynn’s as he easily parried the strikes with minimal footwork.

“Personality,” Laurent repeated, slapping Fynn’s sword away again. He has yet to go on the offensive, as he usually did not. Laurent had not seen Fynn with a sword since they were children. Reacquainting himself with Fynn’s style of swordsmanship was imperative to a good match. “There is more than enough of that here in Vere.”

He could sympathise with Fynn’s unwillingness to put himself out there again, as Laurent could imagine it /was/ quite stressful, quite taxing. But Fynn was handsome, well-read, wealthy and aristocratic. He was funny, charming, and good with a sword as well, Laurent had begun to learn. It would be easy for him...could have been finished if, perhaps, he had not spent all these years chasing Laurent....

There was no one in Vere Laurent could think to match Fynn, not a name he could offer, a meeting he could set.

“Strangely enough,” Laurent murmured, deflecting another strike easily, “I do not know that there is any particular type of feature I ‘lust’ for. I do not.../lust/ often enough to find a pattern between.”

“Strength, I think,” Laurent said honestly a best later. “Strength and...warmth.” Those were two of Damen’s features Laurent admired - features he’d mistakenly ‘listed’ after in Fynn. “Knowledge I do not possess, as well. I am quite drawn to learning.”

* * *

Laurent was skilled with a sword. Fynn couldn’t yet say if he was better than Auguste, but if he wasn’t, he was awfully close. He remembered when Auguste used to worry that Laurent would feel bested in the ring for the rest of his fighting days, but now Auguste would be evenly matched. Fynn’s advantage was that he knew Auguste’s fighting stye better than anyone on the planet—he had grown with him, and they had fought countless times.

He saw and opening and took it, but he was out of practice and Laurent was lithe. This wasn’t going to be a spar he would win.

“Strength and warmth are good attributes,” he replied. “So is learning. But some day you will come to learn all Damianos knows, so you will have to turn your focus outward, yes?” Though Fynn thought it wouldn’t be all that hard to catch up to Damen’s knowledge on anything.

He hated that he always turned to giving Laurent advice, but it was what Auguste had always done. And Laurent didn’t seem to take it from anyone else, including the man he was marrying.

“And what about in the bedchamber?” he asked, deciding he might as well. “Damianos must have some skill there. You’re stiff in your steps even now.” He cocked a brow, a smirk on his face, though his heart twinged. “I’ve heard tales of his stamina. Am I correct in guessing those tales are true?”

Even if they were, he couldn’t see Laurent /enjoying/ being bedded for hours on end.

“Do royal Akielons have rituals in bed?” he asked without waiting for an answer to his last question. “I’ve been in bed with a few, I didn’t feel they were much different than anyone else."

* * *

Laurent doubted there would ever be a day he learned all Damen knew, but he would entertain the thought. He did not mind Fynn’s predilection for giving him advice with every other statement - he barely noticed it. Auguste had always done the same, so subconsciously, Laurent was used to just taking the advice and doing with it what he would. It helped that much of Fynn’s advice had an insightful turn to them, left Laurent on his toes, always thinking—

But never distracted enough to miss a deflection.

It was the acknowledgement of his stiffness that did give Laurent pause for a moment, made him reset his feet, really try to feel the stiffness in him. Fynn was right, of course. Laurent could feel his rigidity the moment Fynn mentioned it.

The little blush that took him was from the heat of exertion, surely—

Even if Laurent had done nothing so athletically demanding yet.

“I’ve noticed no rituals,” Laurent deflected as easily as he had Fynn’s blade, “But I do not think my experience with him would be comparable to any other either.”

Laurent did not know how to have this conversation without seeming cold, calloused, a bitch. He had so confidently weaponised his intimacy with Damen in many conversations, but...he did not want to to easily dismiss Fynn as he had others.

* * *

“Possessive, Laurent,” Fynn chuckled. He’d heard the rumors of Laurent being a prude, and he’d experienced some of it himself. Laurent was still wary of affection, and Fynn guessed that he had no one to talk about his relationship with that didn’t intend to use it against him someday. Laurent spoke about intimacy as if it were just another drill, another way of wielding his sword.

And oh did he sound virginal in saying that his experience with Damen wasn’t comparable to anyone else. If Damianos were as infamous in bed as everyone claimed, Laurent was not the only one to leave his chambers sated. But he just smiled and drew back to avoid a quick strike, relying on his faster movement to carry him to safety.

“You like him bedding you, don’t you?” Fynn laughed. “You sound so gruff. He is a good lover, you can say it—I won’t be offended.” He guessed that might be why Laurent was being so evasive.

“Friends do talk about these things,” he continued around another parry. "My last bed partner was a young man from Patras - he wasn’t particularly good in bed. He grew up too close to royalty and though he was good in bed because slaves and pets told him so. In reality, he tried to lick me like a dog.”

* * *

It was not a strange line of questioning for Laurent - it was not unlike what he heard others whispering about him anyway - but this was the first time Laurent had ever entertained the idea of /answering/ any of the questions he heard. Laurent knew this was the talk among friends, but Laurent had truly never had a friend to discuss it with.

He remembered, briefly, lying on that old cabin floor with Fynn, talking about how bedding someone was hardly their sole interest in life. He remembered he and Fynn had had similar ideas of intimacy, of the lack there of.

Laurent could talk about this.

It helped with Fynn starting, providing levity with his tale. It warmed Laurent up to the idea of taking his own turn.

“He is the only person I think I care to let bed me,” Laurent said, and it was not a jab at Fynn, it was the truth. “I do not think I would find pleasure in allowing anyone else to fuck me as he does.”

“I will admit—“ Laurent began, taking advantage of an opening and successfully batting at Fynn’s side - a fenced tap. He withdrew, readied again. “—I have a difficult time keeping pace with his stamina, and if you tell anyone of that, I will hang you on the city walls.”

* * *

Fynn had no intention to tell anyone anything of this conversation. He knew it wasn’t common for Laurent to discuss his bedroom antics—if he had ever done so before. It made him curious as to how Damianos had been allowed to bed him at all. Laurent seemed so…strict sometimes. Fynn knew that he was only shown affection because of their youth.

The hit of the sword stung slightly, buy Fynn was in his proper stance a moment later, adjusting himself to strike faster. He managed to snag Laurent’s sleeve—he may not be as good as Auguste had been, but Fynn knew his way around a sword.

“No one is evenly matched in anything,” Fynn said. “But fucking is not about that—at least, not to me. Stamina, roughness…I don’t think about that very much. I rather prefer the connection between me and my lover. Is Damianos attentive to you?”

He advanced again, utilizing his earlier hit to gain some ground.

“You make it sound as though he simply mounts you like a stallion.” Which would not surprise him if that was the case, but Fynn knew it wasn’t. “I know he does not, because you would not be so enamored with a man who acted in such a way. I would think he is gentle with you, and caring. He does kiss you quite often, and many of those kisses don’t seem to be an attempt to draw you into bed.”

Fynn twisted away from a strike, moving to hit back.

“You are both quite taken with each other. I would be very interested to hear how he managed to get you in bed at all."

* * *

The sword play was easier to navigate through than this conversation would be, Laurent could already tell. It was not easy for him to speak like this, he had not practiced it as often as he had combat. Fynn, skilled at the sword as he was, should not have been able to advance on Laurent just now, but with Laurent’s mind diverted on the topic, he had given an opening.

In turn, he rotated his blade up before they could bind, and with a swift flick of his wrist, an easy side step, he slapped Fynn’s other side before flourishing his blade to his own side, indicating a break.

“He does not simply mount me,” Laurent breathed out in defence of Damen. They’d done enough for a light exertion - them stopping for a moment would not look suspect at all to Jord or Lucien— who were, at the moment, invested in themselves. Jord had his own sword unsheathed and was clearly explaining the balance of width and tang to a very attentive Lucien.

“/I/ took /him/ to bed the first time,” Laurent informed Fynn then, as he truly had to think back to how this had all begun, back when it was all so complicated - as if it were any easier now. “He‘d won me a fort. I thought it fair compensation.”

No. That wasn’t...entirely true.

“He planned to leave,” Laurent recalled aloud, more to himself. He simply /trusted/ Fynn enough to let him hear it. “We took the evening, and it was...terribly awkward for me. I demanded more than I could handle and he was /infuriatingly/ gentle with me.

“And he asked for /nothing/,” Laurent continued, and it had become clear that this was the first time Laurent had thought about this in time - his first time with Damen. “He still asks for nothing. He sets out to please me. And he is...unbearably honest with me.” Laurent laughed at that bit, raised his sword again at the ready.

“Damianos had all the pleasure and fortune to be the one to have me, and he called me /virginal/ then and there. Without hesitation.”

Laurent had admired the honesty.

* * *

Well, it was a much more loving story than Fynn expected to hear. He had imagined Damen being forced on Laurent as some kind of slave ritual, or something…not so kind happening to Laurent. He knew Laurent was capable to dealing with things on his own, but Fynn found himself wondering if Damen had actually been gentle or just gentle by comparison.

He laughed at Damen calling Laurent virginal - especially because he had thought the same just moments ago.

“I hope you do not think of your time in bed with him as a transaction,” Fynn murmured. “And that is what love is, Laurent. No one asks for anything, it is already given.”

It was rather adorable that Laurent was still so unaccustomed to the way relationships worked.

“Does he succeed in pleasing you?” Fynn ventured. “I would think it impossible."

* * *

Laurent did not necessarily think of his time with Damen as a transaction, but he did like to make it...fair. He was lucky that Damen seemed to take so much pleasure in pleasuring him, as Laurent could not say he had many ideas left on how to give back to Damen.

But he knew it was not a transaction.

Just as he knew what love was. Now. For the most part. He had a lot of navigating to do on that subject still, but he wasn’t about to bring /that/ up in a light-natured conversation such as this. This was hardly the time for him to open up about more than he already had.

“Why does everyone think that?” Laurent asked with a little huff of absolute disbelief. “I am capable of being /pleased/. It is a feat, to be sure, but one that is achievable. I would not allow it if it did not please me. I’ve not the schedule or the temperament to do so.”

One day, Laurent would tell Fynn about all the chances Damen had to have him, of all the situations he could have taken advantage of Laurent, and all the times he had not. No, Laurent had initiated their ultimate relationship, because Damen gave him that control. Damen was /such/ a good man. Laurent was happy to have him.

“But perhaps that is why and how he /does/ please me,” Laurent reasoned pointedly, clearly have a go at Fynn now. His smile gave him away. “Because he took the painfully lengthy time to get to know what I like. Did not just /assume/ impossibility.”

* * *

Fynn rolled his eyes. Of course Laurent could be pleasured, but getting past his mask of flippancy toward sexual things seemed insurmountable. Fynn knee if they were ever in bed together he would have made Laurent think twice about how good Damianos was. Fynn has little care for his own cock, he much preferred the puzzle of his partner.

“You and Auguste, always thinking you’re unique in bed,” he scoffed. Auguste thought he was the best fuck in the five kingdoms, even when woman grimaced after leaving his bedchamber in his youth.

“Akielons are simple in bed,” Fynn shrugged. “Kempt is far more surprising. I have piercings, you know.” He wasn’t sure Laurent had ever seen the bar on his left nipple, and he /knew/ Laurent hadn’t seen his other one.

“Damen has fucked Akielons and slaves,” he guessed aloud. “Slaves will be subject to adventures in bed but not their creators. Whores create, and Akielon whores are dreadfully boring compared to Patras or even Kempt.”

He really didn’t know why he was explaining this, perhaps because a part of him still thought Laurent was making the wrong choice.

“Has he ever bound you?” Fynn asked. “Have you ever bound him?” He was fairly certain the answer was no in both counts. “You might enjoy it very much. There is something freeing about having no control.”

* * *

Laurent did get a genuine laugh out of Fynn comparing him to Auguste. It was something he so rarely hears, but something he always hoped for, and coming from Fynn, it still truly meant so much. He had known Auguste, after all, perhaps better than anyone in the world. Laurent trusted his comparisons, even if they were bold and disrespectful.

Though ‘bold’ had been a word he had constantly used to describe Fynn, so it did not surprise him.

What /did/ surprise Laurent was the mention of piercings and, yes, Laurent had a natural inclination of interest in that regard. He easily could /guess/ what Fynn meant he had pierced, but such a thing was not a Veretian custom, so he could not be /certain/. Surely, he did not mean—Fynn had been stripped down with him in that cabin, but it had been so dark, and Laurent had not exactly been searching for piercings, but...surely...

His eyes betrayed him, as if he might be able to see through Fynn’s trousers, but he lifted his eyes just as quickly. Laurent was not about to get himself in trouble over curiosity.

Even if he was truly fascinated.

“Damianos has piercings,” Laurent did say, for something told him he’d get his answer one way or another if he mentioned it. “And we are not /so/ boring in our bed chambers.”

Laurent didn’t /think/ so anyway...

“I have restrained Damianos more than once,” he went on, thinking back to the time he’d stuck Damens arms in his shirt, made him sit on his hands, made him hold the wall, demanded he not be touched. See? He was not so boring!

Laurent, still uncertain of how to navigate a conversation like this, had begun to present it as a competition. He had begun to flaunt, speak more confidently, matching Fynn. His only problem was that he still approached it so methodically, did not seem attached to what he was saying, though he told the truth. Laurent had no warmth in his words, just facts on facts.

It was all very new to him.

“And we do play with power and control, Fynn,” Laurent went on boastfully, boldly confessing something he probably would not have with anyone else. Not without proper cause, of course. “I have even played a pet.”

* * *

Sword fighting had turned to conversation, and Fynn didn’t mind it. It saved him an obvious defeat at the hands of Laurent, though he was winning in another way. He was surprised to hear that Laurent had toyed with binding, but not that it had been practiced on Damen and not Laurent.

“You’ve played a pet?” Now /that/ was something. “I bet he loved that.” Roles reversed and all. He coudln’t imagine how Damianos acted when Laurent had to be a pliant, wanting Veretian pet. “Did he put you in jewels and chains?”

He had to admit that Laurent would look beautiful in the luxurious dressings of a royal pet. He had likely been dripping with jewels, his severe clothing replaced with revealing strips of cloth, his skin exposed and ready to be bruised and painted red and purple.

“Is marking you part of this game?” Fynn ventured, his eyes darting to Laurent’s neck where fresh ones were peeking out from his collar. “You know your people make bets on when one will appear? They adore you both.”

Veretians adored Laurent and Damen. Particularly Damen, if he was being honest. They were jealous of a man who bedded Laurent, but they were also thankful someone lessened the cruelty of their king.

“Most of them, anyway. I heard you had a man beheaded for suggesting Damen was still your pet? Or flogged. I forget."

* * *

“Jewels, yes,” Laurent smirked, thinking back to the costume Damen had commissioned for him. He still had it, tucked into the bottom of the trunk at the end of his bed. The jewels were tucked away in their own box, tucked under and safe as well. “I have never been one for adornments, but they seemed...fitting that evening. Chains, as you can imagine, I have never been in favour of on my body.”

But thin, delicate chains for show? He would let Damen try it. They had discussed it last night, after all.

Laurent laughed again when Fynn followed that up with a question about his markings. Laurent knew his people placed bets on them, and it was so foolish to him if only for the fact that /no one/ would be able to tell whether they were from Damen or not.

“Marking me is expected,” Laurent told Fynn, and to prove that, he rolled up his sleeve, found a spot just above his golden cuff, and pressed hard into the skin with his own thumb. The skin went white, and then filled with red not a moment later. It would bruise within the hour. “Veretians win their bets if I rest my hand on my neck. The /game/ of it is that /I/ know which marks are from Damianos.”

And Laurent was proud of that, no matter what it said about him.

Despite what people thought, what Laurent let them believe, he was human. He took pleasure and found joy in things.

Like hearing his people did ‘adore’ his relationship with Damianos. Of course they did, it was gossip, it was drama, it was a mystery to them all. Laurent’s relationship with Damen gave them entertainment, something new to talk about that no other kingdom had.

He supposed he did not mind that.

“Flogged,” Laurent responded simply to the next question, and he almost looked just as proud of that fact. “Ten times, per my council’s decision of ‘fairness’. Damianos is pet to no man, myself included. Even if he does look absolutely stunning in the garb.”

* * *

“You will have to tell me what truly happened someday,” Fynn said, smiling despite himself. “I have heard many in Vere speaking of it, but I cannot tell fact from fiction.” He knew that Laurent had flogged Damen too—had nearly killed him, in fact. It was why many felt Damianos could perhaps be using this all as a game, a ploy to turn on Laurent the moment he had the crown.

But, Fynn gathered Damianos was too dumb for that sort of game. Only someone like Laurent could pull it off.

Fynn truly wished he could have been the one to put such a look of pride on Laurent’s face.

“You should let Vere see this—how much you adore him. I think they would benefit from seeing it. Especially after what happened.” He didn’t tell Laurent that many in the kingdom feared Damen would refuse Laurent’s declaration to wed him, and some were preparing for what could come after.

“Speaking of the people—when does Damianos intend to announce your marriage? Or does he need to fuck you a few more times to make up his mind?”

It was a joke on the knife edge of disrespect, but Fynn could balance there quite well.

* * *

“Vere knows,” Laurent informed Fynn flippantly, flicking his sword back up at the ready. “If you leave the palace walls, you will hear tales of Damianos and I’s adventures together. You will hear how close we are, how I adore him.” It was mostly the truth. Arles still had not become a place where Laurent felt comfortable showing his affection towards Damianos, and those inside who /had/ seen it had travelled with them, had watched them slowly - painfully so - fall in love.

Fynn’s joke ended up getting him a sharp slap in the side with the broad side of Laurent’s blade accompanied by a disapproving look. Laurent allowed it, but that knife’s edge Fynn balanced on was slippery, and one icy glare from Laurent could freeze the whole thing over and make it impossible to stand on. He almost wanted to see Fynn slip, see how he might recover.

“We have decided to give the announcement a few days more,” Laurent answered all the same, as he knew beneath all of that, it was a genuine question. “I do not want Akielos to believe I’ve cast some Vaskian spell on him with such an admittedly quick turnaround.”

“I haven’t,” Laurent added, dropping his sword to his side. “If anything, /you/ were the one to do so. It seems the only place I can say anything so convincing and unarguable is in the bedroom.”

And then Laurent repeated the Akielon words he had said to Damen last night, what he’d begged for when prompted, the words Damen had clung to so strongly. Laurent tossed his sword back into the little bin he’d pulled them out of before turning back to Fynn. He spoke the language, and Laurent was not so embarrassed to admit that he’d asked for his lover’s cock. It was what people did.

“I do not believe that to be some Akielon spell work, do you?”

* * *

Fynn jerked with the impact of the sword, but he was grinning all the while. He hadn’t ever seen this side of Laurent, and he was enjoying it. Though he couldn’t deny that he wished he could turn their playful banter into something more. Returning to Kempt might be necessary sooner rather than later, before he said something foolish. Again.

Upon hearing what Laurent had told Damen, he raised a brow. Now /that/ was something not to be repeated in polite company.

“So you’ve agreed to an heir, then?” he asked. “That phrase is probably /the/ most vulgar way to do so, I must say.” He chuckled, but hoped that Damen hadn’t taught it to him. It truly was a phrase reserved for only the most emphatic of whores-turned-lovers.

But the look on Laurent’s face didn’t give way that he knew that.

“It means, quite literally, ‘fuck children into me’—that would be the best translation.”

* * *

Laurent’s entire demeanour, unfiltered, revealed that he had very much just learned something new. Very new. That he had not been correct about something he had been very confident about before.

He’d gone absolutely white.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, already knowing well what he had said the moment Fynn asked what he had. Agreed on an heir? Laurent was not an idiot, he could put two and two together, and oh, had he just.

And he’d said it /aloud/ - repeated it! - for /Fynn/ to hear!

Hearing it in his own language really settled it in Laurent, and he could not help but just stand there for a moment, silent.

“I said it...so many times,” he confessed, and at that point, all he could do was laugh. No wonder Damen had responded as he had to it, with such passion and enthusiasm. And he’d /repeated/ it! He had to laugh. He could only laugh.

Jord and Lucien were both watching now, as this was truly a sight.

“We hadn’t agreed on an heir,” Laurent laughed softer now in disbelief as he sat square in the dirt, knees splayed, arms resting atop them.

* * *

Oh dear. Fynn watched as the realization hit Laurent, and it became clear just why Damianos had been so excited by the use of it. Laurent’s laughter sounded despairing, and Fynn tossed his sword to the dirt when Laurent essentially collapsed. He knelt in front of him, then motioned for Jord and Lucien to stay away when Jord jumped to his feet.

“It’s okay,” Fynn said softly. He wanted to reach out and push Laurent’s hair back out of his face. “Laurent, it will be all right. Damianos is smarter than I give him credit for, he will understand. What happens in bed is not of equal weight to sober discussion. Every man knows that.”

He /hoped/ Damen was actually smart enough to understand that.

“You should tell him that you didn’t know what it meant. It isn’t so bad - he should be flattered you learned a phrase to use with him in bed.”

He offered his hand. “Come, let’s go back inside and we can come up with a better plan where it is warmer."

* * *

“It will be fine, yes,” Laurent agreed, pushing his own hair back out of his face as he looked up to meet Fynn’s gaze, “but what a terribly timed misunderstanding.”

Oh, he would need to /talk/ to Damen about that. How absolutely awkward.

With that, Laurent took Fynn’s hand and moved to his feet, laughing quietly despite himself. He supposed he should simply own what he said, save himself the embarrassment at least from Fynn, but Laurent did not see the point. He would survive this, he just already knew it would haunt him with how absolutely confidently he had spoken it.

Fynn certainly knew what position Laurent usually took in the bedroom now.

“I suppose that is a phrase most would want to hear,” Laurent offered up, nodding towards the door so Jord and Lucien knew they were moving. “I could have asked for much worse.”

* * *

“He will understand,” Fynn said again, patting Laurent on the back once they were standing. It felt strange to do it to Laurent—he had always done it with Auguste. He scooped up his sword from the dirt and put it back in the barrel with the others, then returned to Laurent’s side as they headed for the door.

“It is very high praise, though vulgar,” Fynn offered. “A man who is so good in bed that his whores wish to have his children is about as high an accolade as an Akielon can get. I suppose it is also favorable to hear from your lover, though I’m not sure how many men say it to other men.” He had to be honest, though Damen seemed not to mind.

“There is a phrase that I’ve heard,” Fynn continued as he took Laurent’s arm once more. “It translates to ‘take me apart.’” He said the phrase in Akielon. “It’s a rather aggressive way to say ‘fuck me’ in Akielon.”

Fynn pushed open the door to the outside, shielding his eyes momentarily as the snow swept in around them. Thankfully the palace was close.

A man with a horse was at the far end of the training fields, talking with a Veretian guard in an animated fashion. He wore a thick cloak with a large hood, and looked to be a messenger. His horse was hard to make out, but looked muscles for endurance and hard riding.

“Really, Laurent, it is not so bad,” Fynn said, watching the messenger for a moment before turning his attention back to the Veretian king. “You ought to have some soup, you’ve lost all the color in your face.”

* * *

Laurent did not /need/ to hear that men did not usually say such a phrase to men. It was common sense, something he easily could have presumed. He could not be so convinced that Fynn was not just trying to terrorise him now.

“Are you lying to me?” Laurent asked when Fynn taught him this new phrase. “Or are you teaching me /another/ phrase to jeopardise my future alongside Damianos with?”

But Laurent trusted Fynn in the long run. Even as Fynn unwittingly likened him to a whore, Laurent could not help but smile still, mostly despite himself, but because it was all still quite funny.

“Take me apart?” Laurent asked in his accented Akielon, looking up to Fynn for confirmation that he had said it correctly. He only started like he had done something wrong for a moment when Jord strode past, headed straight for the animated discussion up ahead. Laurent had not even noticed it until that moment, but he had to guess it did not involve him. Not yet anyway.

“Take me apart,” Laurent repeated again, a bit more confidently when Fynn did not burst out laughing at him as if Laurent had said something absolutely ridiculous. “Take me apart so I can—“ Laurent sighed, “have your children.”

He still could not believe it.

* * *

Fynn was a little insulted that Laurent would assume he was lying about something with such consequences as Damianos coming after him again. His nose still throbbed in the cold, and he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to rest a hand against his cheek the way he had done before.

“A little less emphasis on the ‘puh’ sound at the beginning,” Fynn instructed. “You speak Akielon well enough—stop talking out your nose, Laurent.”

He grinned, once more grateful that Kempt had sounds that enabled him to speak Veretian and Akielon with a bit more ease.

“It’s not—“

“Laurent, what the hell are you talking about?”

Fynn wheeled around at the sound of a low voice behind him, dangerously close.

An Akielon man stood there—looking wild and frightfully handsome. His hair had been tied back at one point, but hard riding had it looking windswept. Good rings winked from the man’s ears, and his dark eyes were near black, making his sharp features even more severe. He looked far too handsome to be a messenger, though he was the cloaked man Fynn had seen before.

The man looked between Laurent and Fynn for a moment, then his face darkened to something close to murderous. Fynn realized then that he had no weapon.

“And who might you be?” Fynn asked, edging to get between the man and Laurent.

“Nikandros, Kyros of Ios,” the man snarled, and Fynn flinched though the man hadn’t advanced.

“I’m looking for my king, Damianos,” Nikandros growled, his eyes back on Laurent. “I need to speak with him immediately.” His eyes narrowed. “But by all means, continue discussing your fucking, I can find him myself.”


	5. Chapter 5

Laurent started, simply because - /again/ - very few people called him by his first name. One of them was standing at his side, and the other was on a training field a good ways away, so—

“Nikandros?” Laurent asked, not even thinking about what he had been saying and much more focused on...Nikandros. He looked windblown, uncomfortable, and for a moment, wearied. Not to mention, Nikandros of Ios was in here. In Arles.

Why.

Laurent introduced Nik at the same moment he introduced himself, creating a garble of words for a moment before he stopped and listened...just in time to be reminded of what they had been talking about.

There was /no way/ Laurent would have this misunderstanding so early on. Nik was Damen’s closest and most trusted friend. If /he/ misunderstood this and told Damen, there would be no coming back from it.

“Unfortunately for you, I was practicing for Damianos tonight,” Laurent responded confidently, flippantly, hoping to de-escalate this quickly by simply being himself. Or the ‘him’ Nik knew best. “Fynn, Herzog of Kempt, my closest friend, travels with Akielons frequently. I embarrassed myself by mottling your language last night when your king was burying his cock inside of me, and Fynn was mocking me for it.”

He smiled at Nik then, graciously, and nodded to Fynn - a silent request to be given a moment with Nikandros.

“You’ve travelled to Vere,” Laurent murmured, dropping his facade for a moment to get a good look at Nik. It was a quick change, one that did not lend way for warm welcomes. Laurent tried to discern what was under the anger that always came to the forefront for Laurent. It was almost as if it were his resting face. “Why?”

* * *

Nikandros was quite aware of who Fynn was. He was Damen’s closest friend, and the last letter he received had cryptically told him that Laurent was in love with another man. Of course, Damen wasn’t stupid enough to put it in writing for prying eyes, but he recalled a story from their childhood where Nikandros had pined after a lady of Sicyon only to find out she was sleeping with another man the whole time.

Fynn moved away when prompted, though he hadn’t even been able to extend a hand to Nikandros. He’d heard of him before—he had helped Damen rally the army that defeated the Regent. He still didn’t know if he should be armed.

Nikandros, for his part, was seething. He had yet to see Damianos, and instead was here staring down Laurent with his lover.

“Akielos is in danger,” Nik said, nearly cutting him off. “Damianos is coming to Ios with me, tonight. I suggest you have his horses prepared, though I will not order a king. Even one who has betrayed him.”

He wanted Laurent to know that he /knew./ Closest friend? Bullshit.

“It is nothing we require an army for. And I would rather not discuss the circumstances within earshot of another kingdom, whether or not he is your friend.” He crossed his arms. “I ask again, Your Majesty, where. Is. Damianos."

* * *

Ah, so Damen had told Nikandros.

It made sense. Laurent supposed, had he had more friends, he also would have understood the bond that led to sharing such a disgrace. He did not blame Damen for doing it, though he supposed Nikandros had not been given an update on the situation.

And it did not seem that now was the time to educate Nikandros on that.

Ios - which Laurent also had to care about, as it would be partly his soon - was in danger, and where Laurent knew it to be imperative that he explained himself of his conversation with Fynn, he could not put himself over such news.

“He is on the training fields, in the Akielon camp,” Laurent told Nikandros without hesitation then, breezing past the insult that hurt a bit more than he wanted to admit. He was so tired of hearing it, especially having it brought back up out of one little misunderstanding. “I will take you to him.”

* * *

Nikandros did not have time to waste waiting on Laurent to find a horse. “You ride with me, then,” he said, then leveled his eyes at Fynn. “You will have to excuse us.” He turned and jogged back to his horse, who looked less than enthused to continue being ridden, but was at least a bit rested now.

“Is this safe?” Fynn asked Laurent in a low voice, gathering that Nikandros seemed to think he and Laurent were something more than they so painfully weren’t.

Nikandros hopped atop his horse and cantered toward them, stopping abruptly beside Laurent. His mare squealed, rearing up just slightly out of sheer annoyance.

Nikandros held out a hand and hoisted Laurent up into the saddle behind him. He didn’t know where the training fields were, but Fynn jutted his chin toward an opening in the massive courtyard. Nikandros nodded his gratitude, though his face was still sour.

With his direction, he dug his heels into his mare and she took off at a hard pace, nearly a gallop.

“It took me a week to get here,” Nikandros said over the sounds of his riding. “I will need a fresh horse, your best endurance mount. Nikri will be able to keep the pace I need."

* * *

“He is harmless,” Laurent murmured in response to Fynn’s worry, though he knew Nikandros was much more dangerous than Damianos in the long run. The man had nearly challenged him to a duel once and had only been stopped by Damianos’ word. He also would not hesitate to do it again, Laurent knew.

But he had grown with and on Nikandros. Laurent, though he had acted foolishly, was not a fool. He knew he was safe with Nikandros now.

So he hopped atop the mare and held tight around Nikandros’ waist. He was of a similar size to Damen, but Laurent did not hold Nik nearly as tight. He had wrestled Nikandros many times and knew the Akielon could absolutely wreck him off the side of this horse.

“You rode too hard,” Laurent called back over the wind. “We should have a different mount /now/. This horse will not make it ba—“

Laurent stopped to tuck his head into Nikandros’ back, hiding away from the blustering wind as it ripped past them. He lifted his head a moment later, immediately understanding why Nik looked the way he did. A week’s ride through this?

Laurent had been trying to warn Damen.

And Nik meant to take Damen /tonight/?

No, Laurent could not allow it. There was not a horse that could do it, and Damen— he still had nine days with him. He’d made sure of it.

And he did not even know what was happening in Akielos!

“You should rest,” Laurent went on as he pointed in the direction they needed to ride. They were close enough to the camp already. “You cannot expect to return to Ios at such a pace.”

* * *

Nikandros didn’t have time to switch horses or to dally. He needed to find Damen and bring him home at once. The wind was fierce, but not the worst he had faced in the past week. Returning home would be easier, as they would be heading into the warmth instead of away from it.

“There is no time,” he said, giving his mare a swift kick. Akielon soldiers jumped up at the sight of them, only stilling when they recognized Laurent’s golden hair.

Damen saw them at once, and wheeled Nikri to head toward them. He would recognize Nikandros anywhere, just as he would recognize Laurent. The sight of them together meant something was very wrong.

“Nikandros, what is it? Why are you here?” he asked as Nikri slid to a stop, both horses panting hard from a long day of riding.

Nikandros frowned at the sight of Nikri exhausted.

“An earthquake,” he said. “Severe. I was handling it and then another hit, then another. Smaller, but destructive. The people are frightened, we need you.”

Damen swallowed hard, but then set his face. He knew he had no choice but to go. Nikandros would not have come if it were a normal quake—occasionally they happened, but many in succession was not good. He needed details, but this was not the place.

“Let’s go back to the palace to discuss,” Damen said, flicking his gaze to Laurent. This was the last thing they needed right now. He was beginning to think they might be cursed.

“Laurent, I will take you with me. Nikandros, leave your horse here and take a fresh one. Don’t tell the men anything until we’ve made a plan.”

Nikandros nodded, already moving to dismount to help Laurent off. “Yes, Exalted.”

“Crassus!” Damen called over his shoulder. “Ready the camp, we may need to leave at first light. Rest your horses and yourselves.”

He offered a hand to Laurent to help him up onto Nikri.

“Come. We will make a plan on the way.”

* * *

Laurent had certainly /heard/ of an earthquake before, but it had never been something he had experienced in his life. Sometimes, rocks from the tips of the mountains slid from their peaks and created little landslides, but they never affected Arles in a way that Laurent had noticed. He could assume an earthquake was worse than that, but he could not truly understand by how much.

He had only even picked up on what it was by understanding the Akielon words for ‘ground’ and ‘shake.’ Laurent was hanging on by a loose thread in the conversation, so he just listened to the Akielon that passed between Nikandros and Damen, picked out what he could.

Like the news that Damen might be leaving at first light.

He hopped down from Nikandros’ horse and onto Nikri with Damen’s assistance. Akielon soldiers were already respectfully addressing Nik as he rode near, bowing low, but not so low as they would for Damen. Laurent could see equal excitement and worry in their eyes before Damen spurred Nikri back towards the palace.

Laurent held onto Damen as he would not Nikandros, clutching him around the middle, already understanding their time would be cut short. Their union had not even been announced. Laurent was not so sure /they/ were ready for the union yet—

And then there was the new /Nikandros/ misunderstanding that he would need to address before that was allowed to fester and ruin them.

/And/ Ios was experiencing the ground shaking.

“Tell me what you need of Vere,” Laurent called over the wind, and dressed in nothing but a light shirt and training vest, it was almost difficult to just untuck himself from Damen’s back. He managed, the Veretian in him making it just fine in the cold. For now.

* * *

Damen could feel the impending doom hovering above him. He had no idea what distraction had come to his home, only that it must be terrible. How many had died? What had been destroyed? There was also the issue of the sea, the waves that sometimes followed quakes that destroyed all in their path. Damen had never seen one, but had heard stories of them wiping away whole cities in one blow.

His only comfort was Laurent’s arms tight around him, though Damen realized quickly that Laurent was not dressed for the weather. Nikandros caught up to them on a new horse, both because Nikri had two riders and Damen wanted to keep him somewhat fresh for a long ride beyond.

“I’m not sure yet,” Damen admitted uber the wind. “Perhaps physicians and supplies. I must find out more.”

He knew also that the unease Damen had been told about would only grow if he did not return home at once. His own kingdom might turn on him yet.

When they arrived back at the palace, Damen leapt from Nikri and pulled Laurent down with firm hands on his hips. But instead of rushing inside, Damen pulled Laurent to his chest for an embrace, allowing his cloak to envelop then both.

“We will find a solution,” he promised. “But first we must get you warm.”

“Damianos,” Nikandros said evenly. “Let us go.”

* * *

“I am warm,” Laurent tried to dismiss, but the moment he parted from Damen’s embrace, it was obvious that wasn’t true. He steeled himself for their return to the palace, after the horses had been handed off to the stable hands, and with his hand in Damen’s, he led the charge back.

It seemed fitting that they just take this to the study in Laurent’s wing of the castle. Damen had asked for Nikandros’ silence, so Laurent could infer Damen would want a private meeting. There would be nowhere more private than Laurent’s wing of the palace, if they could get there without someone clueing into a /new/ oversized Akielon in their midst.

He would have liked to ask Nikandros his thoughts on Arles, if it lived up to expectations, but this didn’t seem like the time.

When they arrived in the prince’s wing, Laurent nodded to the study.

“There or our room,” Laurent told them, slipping his hand from Damen’s. For a brief moment, his eyes wandered to Nik. He did not necessarily want to leave them alone before he had a moment with Nik, but perhaps more pressing matters would keep him from creating a rift Laurent did not need right now.

And Damen would be leaving....

“I will change into something warmer and join you in a moment should you choose the study.”

* * *

Damen kept Laurent close as they walked, thumbing anxiously at the side of his palm. They were going to draw the eyes of everyone in the vicinity. He had planned to meet with Laurent and Nikandros, but Nikandros seemed furious behind his exhaustion, and it seemed directed at Laurent.

Oh, right. His letter.

“Yes, you should change into something warmer,” Damen suggested. He pulled Laurent to him for a soothing kiss. “I’ll handle him.”

“I heard that,” Nikandros growled.

“And I will,” Damen shot back. He pecked Laurent on the forehead and rubbed his arms to warm him just a bit before he turned to Nik.

Once Laurent was gone, Nikandros advanced on him. “He has embarrassed you! Betrayed you—“

“I know,” Damen Said evenly, firmly. “But you must trust me that it has been resolved.”

“Resolved?” Nikandros scoffed. “I’ve just found him arm and arm either the duke!”

Damen blinked, momentarily hurt, but he remembered that he’d allowed it so long as Jord was around. “And Jord. Jord was with them.”

“And his pet. The same pet made to insult you!”

“It was discussed,” Damen cut. “Now, may we discuss the Important matter at hand?”

* * *

“Focus on Ios,” Laurent murmured, hands instinctually rising to touch Damen’s face. Laurent was already trying to cling to him, to hold him close, and to not let him go, and it was not even a conscious effort. “He can be cross with me.” There was no need to discuss anything like that.

Though, maybe down the line, Laurent would ask about just /what/ Nikandros had been told—

It was not important.

Though he did not want to, Laurent nodded and moved out of Damen’s arms, off towards his chambers to grab a coat at the very least. Staying and worrying over it would be admitting guilt that Laurent would not have. He’d done nothing wrong. Damen would trust that of him if Nikandros shared what he had heard. Certainly.

Veretian clothing hd always centred on fashion, not ease of access or expedition. It ultimately became the better choice to ditch the idea of a fine jacket and pants and just move into one of his fine dressing robes. He wore them infrequently, as he hated the idea of only a sash acting as a barrier between his body and the outside world - not to mention that he hardly looked like a /king/ in them. Not with his features, anyway. They were feminine robes, literally passed down from his mother, and nothing /Nikandros/ would take seriously, but over his training pants, it would have to do. He did not want to be gone any longer than he had been.

He stepped back into the study quietly, not wanting to interrupt right away...mainly so he could listen to what was being said.

With Nik around, Akielon had become the main language in the room, and Laurent very much had to listen carefully to keep up, but from what he heard, they were focused on the issue of Akielos and not Laurent.

Good.

Laurent moved to be at Damen’s side, watching him speak so Laurent had his best chance at understanding this. He knew Damen would translate in time, so he stayed quiet, let them talk this out. Damen would address him when necessary.

If necessary.

* * *

The news was far from good. Damen motioned for Nikandros to take a seat in the study to tell him what had happened. The earthquake had been strongest in Kesus and Mellos, affecting the hills. Thankfully there weren’t many villages decimated, but the damage was severe to several major cities on the border between Mellos and Kesus. Every building was damaged, some people were trapped. The Kyroi of both provinces were overwhelmed, as grain stores had also been destroyed. They had maybe two weeks of unspoiled grain.

He ran his hand through his hair, trying to think how his father might have handled this.

“Smaller quakes continue,” Nikandros said. “I have sent grain from Ios and some from Isthima to provide relief, but I fear more quakes might ruin our efforts.”

Laurent entered then, and Damen allowed some of the tension to leave his shoulders. He was surprised to see Laurent in a robe—he didn’t think he’d ever seen him wear one before.

“Sit,” Damen said softly, pulling out a chair beside him to Laurent to sit down in. “We will be here for some time.” He called for a servant, and instructed for food and water to be brought to them—discreetly. “You must eat, Nikandros.”

“Exalted—“

“I will not take arguments, you have been riding all day,” Damen said. Under the desk he folded his palm over Laurent’s knee, thumbing the side gently.

“Grain stores are of the greatest concern,” Damen continued. “I would like to survey the damage and meet with the kyroi.”

He summarized the situation in Veretian to Laurent so he could understand what they were discussing. “Winter is nearing it’s end, but we still may need grain from other sources. I don’t anticipate any hostility from Patras, but should they discover we are weakened, they may intend to press their luck at the border.”

He looked to Laurent. “I will not ask for your grain, but perhaps sending troops to be ready at Acquitart in case they are needed…”

“You are not yet a united kingdom,” Nikandros warned in Akielon. “You cannot act like you are. I do not know what has happened, but as far as I am aware, you have no made a formal decree of marriage. Last Ios was made aware, Laurent was pitting you against a duke for his hand, after all you have do—“

“Nikandros.”

Nikandros tore his gaze from Laurent. “Fuck children into me. Take me apart—that was what he was saying to the duke when I approached.”

Damen froze, not because he thought Laurent was saying those things to Fynn in the sense that he actually wanted them, but becuase Laurent had clearly been talking to Fynn about their time in bed together. In a public setting of some sort.

“Akielos knows you approve of the competition,” Nikandros continued, "and many find you noble for accepting a challenge to your suitor. But it has also left a bad taste in our mouths, one that King Laurent is ungrateful. That is the state of things, and my job to tell it as it is. If you decree now, it may seem like you are only doing so because we need aid.”

Damen shook his head. “I will not leave here without making my intentions clear.” He looked over to Laurent. "We will have to risk it—otherwise there will not be a decree until we are wed, as I will return to Ios after my time at Mallos and Kesus."

* * *

Troops could be sent easily enough, and they would support the border should it need aid.

“Ravenel will be readied as well,” Laurent said in Akielon for Nikandros’ sake, thinking it a better move to use their language seeing as it was, technically, /their/ meeting. Damen had been kind enough to translate, but he could not expect Damen to be an interpreter as well as the lead in such conversations. “Ideally, it will be preventative only, but should they be needed, they could deploy but an hour after Acquitart.”

It would be an overwhelming amount of men should Bazal be so foolish as to pressure any border.

“Vere can—“

Laurent stopped as Nikandros spoke up, picking up the words a little slowly, but definitely understanding all that he had to say. Especially when he got to the bit of words Laurent had /just/ learned, repeated /again/ so he could roil on the inside for just a moment.

He exhaled himself into a state of calm, tried to radiate his usual collectedness as he turned to look at Damen. Damen did go still, but he did not rip his hand from Laurent’s leg, did not recoil or deflate. Relief and guilt found their way into Laurent at the same time when Damen went the slightest shade of red.

Damen understood the circumstances.

Laurent could breathe.

Laurent did not so much as shift when he heard what Ios thought of him now, as he had long assumed that to be one of the outcomes of his choice. Ingratitude was a common enough assumption of any relationship, and he would take it in kind and show Ios it was not the case. Laurent had been called many things in his life, and ‘ungrateful’ was nothing new. In fact, it was one of the more common.

“Then they will see they have Vere’s aid,” Laurent replied evenly to Nikandros’ worry, seeing no harm in such an assumption of the people. If anything, it fell into Laurent’s usual ruling style. They would see him as pragmatic, as a king - not as some weak, lovestruck princeling who was subservient to his new union. Laurent was used to being unloved by his people, to being cold, to being a bitch. It was something he could take control of later, work as he needed to, and it would be a secondary problem to what could happen if they did not make a statement of unity beforehand.

Not to mention, it would make Vere look like the strong hand in this, and that was something Laurent did not hate the idea of.

“Vere’s unions are, historically, political. There would be no questioning of it.”

* * *

“Here, perhaps,” Nikandros muttered.

“In Akielos he will be seen as he is, my partner,” Damen said. “I will make my decree tonight, and also announce my intention to return to Akielos with Nikandros in the morning. Laurent as my future husband and as a fellow king will be right in supporting the effort to help. We will be united as a country soon, why not start today?”

“With all due respect, Damianos, Laurent has made a fool of you. What you told me in that letter—“

“Has been resolved,” Damen grit. “It was a misunderstanding.”

Nikandros snorted. “You will have to tell me on our ride tomorrow how kissing another man is a misunderstanding.”

Damen set his jaw, then reached over to Laurent to take his hand this time, giving a reassuring squeeze. He knew they were not on the strongest foundation right now, but he had to rely on the fact that both Fynn and Laurent had told him the truth about what he had seen. He had to care for his country now.

Food and drink arrived, and Damen asked Pallas, who had taken up guard outside, to fetch maps for him. They were brought as they ate, allowing Nikandros to mellow a bit as he put food in his belly.

“We will have to expand farmland this spring,” Damen said. “There is no telling how long these quakes will continue or why. We must be prepared.”

* * *

“I would love to have read this letter,” Laurent murmured as Nikandros once more came at him with his ‘respect.’ There was luckily no malice behind the statement, only something of a mocking tone he usually took on when someone had begun to press his nerves. And Nik had /begun/.

But Laurent sat back and let Damen handle it, grateful that he even would. Laurent knew it was a miracle to have Damen by his side right now, to have his defence when Laurent knew he did not deserve it. He would not be /ungrateful/.

Laurent did not even press it in the silence, though the desire was there. He merwslt squeezed Damen’s hand in return and stayed quiet.

“This used to be prime farmlands here in Delfeur,” Laurent pointed out on the first map, before he realised his mistake and corrected himself with, “Delpha.” The Akielon renaming of the region. “It is a bit north, but we could quicken the trade route with more carts and farmers.” As there would be two kingdoms’ worth now. “We can also rehome many in Arran, if necessary.”

Laurent could only speak for the Veretian side of things yet, but it was something.

They were planning, precisely as Nikandros had warned them not to: as united kingdoms. It was the first they’d done so in an actual pressing setting, in front of someone, outside of their bedroom.

It was a start.

* * *

Damen could sense Nik’s unease at what Laurent was suggesting, but he was right. Delpha provided ample farmland that they could utilize much faster and with more productivity by combining resources. They would have to use this disaster as a way to start combining their kingdoms and making progress toward a union.

“I agree,” he said, looking over to Laurent. “This is an emergency. Measures must be taken. Do you think the council will approve?”

Nikandros began drawing out their plans over the maps, and explaining where the areas of need were located, and what type of destruction was in each. Thankfully Ios had been spared except for some minor damage.

“It will only take you and I a few days to reach Kessus,” Damen said to Nikandros sometime later. “The rest of my camp will be a few days behind, but they will be able to set up an area to assist in setting up tents for those without homes.”

* * *

“I will see that the council agrees,” Laurent murmured mindlessly, watching Nikandros mark areas of destruction along the coast. Nikandros had mentioned the likelihood of waves threatening the shores after these quakes, and where Arles was very much landlocked, Laurent had to wonder what that would entail. He pictured the marble columns of Akielos, the sand and the shore, and he could not imagine anything /terrible/ there. He could not picture some destructive wave coming ashore.

“I have full control of Acquitart,” Laurent went on, pushing back his silken sleeve to place his finger upon the annexed land that made up his birthright. “My council has no say there. Anything you need, I can access quickly from there without the hesitation of court. I suggest deploying assistance early to help with your tents so there is no further delay than necessary.”

Laurent was still a King, and he was playing to his own interests in some of this. He wanted Vere’s hands in this, wanted to help and assert his country as a valuable addition to Akielok life.

“There’s also Lord Torveld,” Laurent reminded Damen. “Should it come to it, I could ask him for assistance.” But that was fully dependent upon Patras’ feelings towards Akielos’ and Vere’s union. Laurent did not feel too confident about that, but it was an option.

More than that...

“We also have Kempt.”

* * *

Damen didn’t want to involve Lord Torveld at all, but he /especially/ didn’t want to involve Fynn. The last thing he needed was Laurent and Fynn working together to fix something in Akielos. Whether or not they had a romantic relationship, it would not go over well in Akielos to see Fynn in the flesh.

“No Lord Torveld,” Damen said flatly. “If Patras presents a problem, I’ll deal with Togeir.” He said nothing of Kempt, deciding to ignore that part instead. Fynn had nothing to do with this, and Damen didn’t need him getting any knowledge of his country while it was still under his rule, if ever.

“Send word for troops to be raised at Acquitart, and we will see what is needed after that. Our grain stores are not unlimited—we have many months yet before the first harvests in the south. Feeding working men will be hard enough as it is, no need to add more mouths than necessary.”

But other than that, Damen didn’t know what else they could discuss without first surveying the damage.

“I think it is time for you to rest, Nikandros. Dinner is in a few hours. I will make my decree and announce my return home tomorrow morning,” Damen said. “But first I will tell the men and ensure they get enough rest as well."

* * *

Surprisingly, Laurent did not argue. It was not yet his place to do so in full, and his offerings had only been out of necessity. If Damen did not think them necessary, Laurent would trust that, as he had never faced tremors in the earth and their subsequent destruction. Damen knew his land, and Laurent would respect that.

For now.

“I will our the word out,” Laurent agreed, moving to grab a parchment and pen from the desk just beside the table they were working at. He began writing at once, planning to send a messenger as soon as possible. He wanted Veretian feet in the ground, wanted their presence known.

Even if it was only Acquitart.

He did pause his writing briefly when Damen announced he planned to leave first thing in the morning. Laurent knew it had been coming, but to hear it gutted him in a way he instantly detested of himself. Not only that, but he /showed/ it, looked up and everything as if it was a surprise. It was pining, it was...weak.

Laurent straightened his back and continued on with his writing, willing himself to just be...better.

“I can show you to a room in a moment,” Laurent did say to Nikandros without looking up from his letter. He didn’t feel comfortable looking up right now, as if his expression might give him away, show him for the /princeling/ he still was. But he would need to. Showing Nikandros along while Damen focused on his men would give him an opportunity to speak with Nikandros about the letter he’d received, what he’d heard on the field. “Damianos, go. Ready your men. I’d like to see you after.”

* * *

“Of course,” Damen said softly. “I planned to find you at once.” He stood from his chair and leaned down again to press a sweet kiss to Laurent’s cheek. He knew that Laurent would take this hard, and it wouldn’t be easy for him either. He would be cold and miserable the entire ride, only to spend a cold and miserable night in a tent.

“I love you,” he said in Veretian. Nikandros rolled his eyes.

He finally did depart to inform his men the somber news, leaving Nikandros with Laurent. Nikandros, who was trying to be civil. He didn’t hide his disdain well.

“Whenever you’re finished,” he said stiffly. The last thing he wanted was to be left alone in a room with the man who had betrayed and humiliated his best friend. But Damen had told him to drop it, so he decided to remain silence. He knew he had probably overstepped his bounds earlier, but he thought Laurent should know his thoughts on the matter.

So he focused on rolling up his maps, then to sitting quietly and staring at anything other than Laurent.

* * *

Laurent did not watch Damen go, he kept his eyes down until he felt the overwhelming presence of just himself and Nikandros in the room. It wasn’t new by any means, their being alone together. They had grown closer in the few days Laurent had spent in Ios and in Sicyon, when Nikandros had taught Laurent to wrestle in the Akielon fashion. Last they had spoken, Nikandros had told him he would never fully excel unless he unburdened himself of his Veretian clothing.

Laurent thought they were close.

But Laurent had done something to lose not only Damen’s trust, but all of Akielos’ as well, it seemed.

He had to start making it right somewhere.

“I cannot explain what I did in a way you will ever accept,” Laurent said without taking his eyes from his letter. His mind perfectly worked through the words of the decree on paper while he also addressed Nikandros without hesitance. “You have decided I am not good enough for Damianos, and I cannot say I disagree with you there.”

Laurent flourished out his signature with the pen and placed it back in the inkwell, letting it dry for a moment before he folded the parchment and began to prepare the wax for sealing.

“But I do love him. More than anything in this world. And I won’t lose him, Nikandros.” Laurent settled his gaze on Damen’s best friend, let that sit a moment.

“I need you to take care of him,” Laurent said seriously, eyes not wavering from Nikandros’ face. “He still doubts, I think, and he has every right to do so, but it will distract him if you allow it. He cannot afford to be distracted now.

“I will not hurt him again. I’ve no interest in the Herzog in the way you think. He is to me as you are to Damianos, and I misread that early on, that is all.” Laurent pulled the wax from over the candle’s flame and poured it over the fold on the letter, let Nikandros have a momentary reprieve from his stare as he pressed his signet into the hot wax.

* * *

Nikandros /did/ think that Laurent wasn’t good enough for Damianos. He had proved as much by straying, by giving affections to someone else when it was clear Damen only had eyes for him. it wouldn’t have been so bad if Damen had agreed to such behavior, but Nikandros knew he hadn’t. Worse, Damen, though deeply hurt in his letter, had alluded that he felt he had done worse to Laurent by having a pet upon his arrival—something Nikandros didn’t believe was Damen’s choice, though Damen said nothing more about it.

“Misread,” Nikandros spat out in Akielon. “Misread the Herzog’s affection for you? You must think I’m an idiot.”

Before this, he had been warming to Laurent. He learned well, and Damen was so enamored with him that it was impossible for him to not to. But Laurent had ruined all of that in betraying Damianos.

“When he last wrote me, he was preparing to come home and leave Vere forever, even if that meant war,” said Nikandros. "That is how badly you’ve hurt him—I do not know what witchcraft or seduction you have used on him, but it will wear off someday. Whatever he has told you, whatever he has led you to believe, you are right in saying that he still doubts you.”

Laurent was an intense man, quick-witted and faster with a blade. But Nikandros could still best him in a wrestling match, and if Laurent ever did decide to harm him, Damianos would not stand by and allow it to happen.

“I will remind him who he is—King of Akielos—and that he is not subservient to /anyone/. If that changes his mind about you, then it is deserved."

* * *

“Misread _my_ feelings for _him_ , but what does that matter?” Laurent muttered as he sat back in his chair, folded his arms over his chest and let Nikandros have at him. Laurent had lived through what Damen wrote about, he knew what Damen had been very prepared to do, knew what he had almost lost. He wouldn’t argue that, wouldn’t try to rewrite that past in Nikandros’ head. Laurent couldn’t. This was all about trying to move on from it—

And deep down, Laurent fully believed Damen hadn’t. He just had not wanted to think about it.

“It would be deserved,” Laurent agreed quietly, thoughtfully, hand idly reaching out to thumb over the corners of the letter he’d just written. He didn’t think it wise to outright agree with Nikandros while his hands were hidden. Nikandros might find it suspicious activity and lunge at him with distrust. 

But there was a reality to what Nikandros had said that Laurent had suspected, but again, was something different entirely when it was staring him in the face, confirmed by the man Laurent considered /actually/ closest to Damen. Damen /could/ leave Vere, could leave Laurent and, without Laurent there to do anything about it, could decide Laurent was not worth his trust, his love.

The dreaded realisation of that sunk into his gut, stuck in his throat, but it was nothing he’d show Nikandros. He withdrew his hand just to conceal its shaking, and decided that this was enough of this conversation. He needed to be alone.

“Your room,” Laurent said quickly as he stiffly rose, motioning to the door. He could feel the threat of moisture at his eyes, but nothing came of it. He was too stubborn to allow that sort of sight in front of Nikandros, not at a time like this. 

Laurent led Nikandros down the hall, towards the room Damen had stayed in during the courting for two reasons. The first was because it was close to their room should Damen need anything from Nikandros. The second was so Damen, should this erupt into an argument tonight, would not have anywhere convenient to go. 

Jord had found his place back in the hall, and his eyes were hard on Nikandros. They knew each other, had a history in battle together, but Jord was all too accustomed to the sour face of someone who disliked his king. It was his job to make sure it did not evolve into anything from that. Laurent waved him off discreetly and continued down the hall.

* * *

Nikandros stood when Laurent did, nodding once. He would say not more on it, and he knew when to shut up. He wasn’t Damianos. Besides, it appeared his point had been made—Laurent hardly looked ready to argue about it. Frankly, he felt Damen had not done enough to punish Laurent for what had happened, he was unscathed and clearly confident in his love for Damen.

He eyed Jord as they entered the hall and gave him a respectful nod. Despite hie current mood and feelings toward Laurent, he did respect that Vere had helped them in their time of need, and he recognized that Kastor might not have been overthrown had Laurent not been an honorable man.

His room was ornate to the point of extravagance, but he thanked Laurent for it anyway and set about preparing to sleep. He knew he wuld need to be rested as much as possible for a long day of riding ahead.

Damen solemnly informed the men of what happened, and explained that they would be going to help. the men were motivated by the chance to give back, and Damen urged them to prepare for travel and finish what they needed to before first light. He spoke with Crassus and determined a plan for what horses would be used for himself, Nikandros, and Pallas, and that Laurent would be staying behind to gather troops should Patras capitalize on their misfortune. Even a show of force might prevent that.

Tension had visibly mounted as he headed back to the palace, and he could tell he would sleep terribly tonight without use of some aid. Either sex or a poultice would do the trick, he imagined. But he wanted to spend as much time with Laurent as possible, and sex would only be he right answer if it felt right and not forced.

He returned to their chambers quietly about an hour after the meeting, searching for Laurent to hold him close.

* * *

On his way back to his room, Laurent dropped the letter for Acquitart with Jord, entrusted him to hand it to a messenger and send it out on the road this evening. It would be a full days ride without stopping, but it was what Laurent could do without a bit more time to critically think over this. And he /needed/ to critically think about it.

It would just be difficult with all this new worry clouding his mind.

He took a seat at his desk and began to make notes, busying himself in the hour Damen was gone with further planning, with work that a king /should be/ doing. And yes, worrying about his alliance with the stronghold of the coast should be one of those priorities, but this was simply the pragmatic way of doing that.

Laurent did not even look up when Damen entered. He was bent over his notes, loose robe opened to his navel with the terrible posture he usually hid so well.

“I should travel to Ios,” Laurent said outright, forehead in his hand as he stared over the numbers he’d made out. “At the week’s end. I should be there as support. I can bring one hundred men, and have a reserve ready on the border so as to not overwhelm the capitol.” He still had not looked up. “If we had focused Marlas early on, we could have already possessed a mixed army to lead this...”

* * *

Laurent looked as he had during the war, stressed and disheveled. Damen wished it didn’t make him so attractive. He crossed over to him, pushing down his his sleeve to press a soft kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder.

“And how to do you think Ios would react if you showed up there without me and I have been away for months, supposedly with you?” Damen asked just as softly. “You must stay here for now. I need to survey the damage in Kessus before I return home. Or perhaps Acquitart, if you would like to be closer. But you can’t go to Ios without me, not right now when I have been away.”

He stood up again to massage Laurent’s shoulders, working at the barrage of knots in the base of his neck and the top of his spine.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Damen murmured, continuing his massage. “Was Nikandros cruel to you?” He certainly hoped he’d been able to hold his tongue. Nikandros was fiercely loyal, but he wasn’t stupid.

Well, hopefully not.

* * *

Laurent lifted his hand to told Damen’s at his shoulder, his eyes still glued to his notes.

“When you return to Ios, then,” Laurent decided, already inking in the note. “I should be there. To assist with damage control, and to let the people see me - /us/. Vere’s being there at such a short call would make us look reliable, would strengthen our relationship with your people.”

Laurent had a thousand other things to say, but he and Damen both knew his mind was not on what it should be. This work was a distraction.

“Nikandros was not cruel,” Laurent assured Damen as he dropped his pen into the inkwell, say back in his chair to be closer to Damen. His head bumped Damen’s chest. “He worries about you. He is a wonderful friend.” Laurent looked up at Damen with a slight frown, surveying him.

“He liked me more when I last left Ios,” Laurent confessed, but there was no accusation or judgement in his tone. It was merely a statement.

* * *

“That would be nice,” Damen said, circling his thumbs around Laurent’s nape. “We can welcome spring together by the sea before our union.” He was soothed just by the mental image of Laurent reclining in the sand, shaded by great fans, completely nude.

He released Laurent’s shoulders to allow him to lean back against him, giving a wonderful view of the expanse of Laurent’s chest. He focused on what he was saying—or tried to. Laurent was breathtaking.

“He is a wonderful friend,” Damen agreed softly. “But he can be cutting.”

He looked down into Laurent’s eyes, simply gazing at him. How could he leave when Laurent looked at him this way?

“Forget Nikandros,” Damen instructed. “He will come to see you as I do. Reading a letter is very different than seeing something in person. Give him time, but please do not appear naked in his bed—it will not make him see as I did.”

He smiled down at Laurent at his joke, reaching to thumb at his cheek.

“We should rest before dinner. We are both too stressed to sit at a desk and discuss. The baths, perhaps? Or would you rather lay in bed for awhile?"

* * *

Laurent smiled at the very idea of letting Nikandros see him fully bared and nude. He might be the one man who ended up completely immune to Laurent’s charms, if ever there was one. The idea itself did make Laurent laugh, a little bubble of noise from his chest, but that was it.

Damen was right. He was too stressed for...all of this right now.

Laurent decided upon the bed, for though he needed to bathe, they could do that after dinner, surely. Damen’s would need it for the ride. Springs and lakes would not be welcoming on his journey home. Laurent had not yet faced an Akielon winter, but surely it was still brisk and unwelcoming as any.

“I thought I had nine days more,” Laurent murmured as he adjust his robe and climbed into the bed, lying amidst the furs and pillows, legs finding their way to tangle with Damen’s. “Now I must watch you leave and forget about me while you head off to be the golden king you are. Nikandros will convince you to never return to me, and you will end up marrying some wonderful blonde maid who cares for orphan children and helps injured horses.”

* * *

Damen followed Laurent to bed after stripping himself of his training clothing he had not yet taken off. As he crawled onto the mattress he suddenly felt as he had after their first time in bed together, when the sun had been the threat that took them away from each other. His chest hurt at the thought of leaving, but there was no other choice. He couldn’t abandon his home.

He kissed Laurent’s forehead before settling down beside him, carding his fingers through Laurent’s hair.

“How could I forget you, when you will be living here with a blond duke who values you above all else?” He wasn’t actually that worried. “One that you tell stories of what you do in the bedchamber?” Damen wasn’t even sure /he/ had ever heard Laurent speak about anything happening in bed. Of course, there hadn’t been much real experience for him that wasn’t abuse, but Damen still felt pressure, like Fynn would do as Nikandros would try to do: convince Laurent that Damen was not actually worth staking his kingdom on.

"Every night will be torture,” he murmured. “I have only just become reaccustomed to having you beside me, and now I will be sleeping on the ground without you to warm me.”

This was where it would have been easier if Laurent had not been a king. Any other rank, and Damen could have convinced the king to allow his future husband to come with him to keep him company. But not Laurent, not a King.

“I will miss you with everything I have,” he added. “I hope you know that."

* * *

They were joking. Relief came with that, and Laurent found an actual smile in himself despite the impending end of /this/. He was not ready to lose Damen again, for as much as they could joke about their time apart, there were no guarantees.

Fynn would not talk Laurent out of being with Damen. Fynn respecter that which Laurent loved, but Nikandros was a different monster. What loyalty Laurent had from Fynn was tenfold in Nikandros for Damen. They had the years Fynn and Laurent never had, they didn’t have the little hiccup Laurent and Fynn had experienced.

“I do know that,” Laurent agreed quietly, running the back of his fingertips up and down Damen’s chest. “I am counting on it.”

He went quiet for a moment after that. This night did feel familiar now, but Laurent had every intention of seeing Damen off in the morning. He would not ride off this time, would not let Damen wake alone. Laurent would be there with him, and then...whatever happened would happen.

Until then, Laurent would just have to remind Damen what he was leaving, give him something to think on whenever Nikandros tried to remind Damen of ‘who he was.’

“I hope you’re not angry that I recounted our evening to Fynn...and Nikandros,” Laurent added with the realisation that he /had/ once more tortured Nikandros with the truth. “More than that, I am grateful you trusted me enough to understand that it was what Nikandros overheard.”

Laurent still had not shaken the pragmatism that was his usual response to /emotion/. Even here in bed with Damen, he had a few walls built up, for he could not shake Nikandros’ words from his head, his warning.

* * *

“Not angry,” Damen murmured, closing his eyes to better feel the slide of Laurent’s fingertips over his skin. “Surprised—Nikandros, too?” That didn’t sound like Laurent at all. He hardly ever spoke to anyone about his private life with Damen to anyone, but even Fynn seemed like he hadn’t been /that/ close with Laurent after all of their years apart.

“If anyone, I know you would never bee foolish enough to have such a conversation in a public place,” he added a moment later. “You only use lewd language when you are well aware people are listening.” It wasn’t an insult—Laurent just didn’t speak with lewd vocabulary when they were in private, unless he was encouraged in bed. Or particularly wanting.

“Is something wrong?” Damen asked, looking over Laurent’s face. “It will not be so bad. We will see each other soon enough, and you know I love you.”

He pressed a kiss to his lips in reassurance.

“What did Nikandros say? He said something to you, that much is clear. You were not this way when I left you in the study."

* * *

“Nikandros too,” Laurent confirmed, and he seemed much more proud of that one. He knew how much Nikandros hated to hear it. One day down the line, Laurent would take Damen, and Nikandros would /never/ hear the end of it. Laurent would be sure of it.

Laurent wondered if Damen thought of that as well, as he did seem to so utterly understand Laurent’s thinking sometimes. Laurent had not even noticed such a pattern in himself until Damen pointed it out, and he was correct. Laurent could weaponise the strangest things.

“He only repeated what I already know,” Laurent confessed honestly after the short-lived kiss, his hand lingering to hold Damen’s cheek. “It was nothing new or shocking or particularly jarring.”

Laurent thought he might keep it at that, but he would be lying if he said he did not want reassurance. It was a natural desire, the want to be soothed at a time like this.

“He said, in so many words, that you still do not trust me,” Laurent murmured, searching Damen’s eyes for the immediate, instinctual answer they might give. “That you might think you do, but...let’s be honest, Damianos, I have done nothing to correct it. I’ve not had the time to, and now you’re leaving.”

* * *

Damen accepted his kiss, but pulled back to look Laurent over again. Sure enough, he learned what Laurent was truly thinking soon after. He could always tell when Laurent was distracted or telling half truths, Damen had learned how to tell after almost two years of practice.

“I was very hurt,” Damen admitted. “I can’t say I regret writing that letter either. I was so upset and I had no one I could talk to plainly. Nikandros was the only one.”

Without writing a letter he might have done something foolish like call off the union and storm out of Arles with no hope of ever having a Laurent again.

“This will be a test,” he said. “But I think I trust you. I fear, but I still trust, if that makes sense.”

But Nikandros was seldom wrong about him.

“You do not think Fynn will try to take you from me again?”

* * *

A /test/.

Laurent did not like the way that sounded, but he knew it was precisely what Damen meant. Laurent did frown at that, because - to him - that very much sounded like the insinuation that he /intended/ to chase after Fynn, but they could only hope he wouldn’t.

Nine more days, and this wouldn’t have been a fucking /test. Laurent could have worked this out where he truly did have Damen’s trust, where there would not be any doubt or fear.

A test...

“And what if /you/ fail this test?” Laurent asked, thinking it only fair. “Fynn has no interest in trying to take me any longer, and I’ve sworn to you I’ve no interest in him. So what if it is he and I that pass the test and /you/ still fail to trust me, Damianos? What then?”

It was pointed, a bit aggressive, but Laurent standing idly by and taking that would have been more disconcerting, surely.

* * *

Damen did not expect Laurent to be angry. He’d merely meant that it would be a trial for them, and regardless of what Laurent thought of Fynn, he doubted Fynn had abandoned his love for Laurent simply because it was unrequited. That would was new and could be healed over should Laurent change his mind.

Damen didn’t think he would, but he had never expected to be in this place to begin with.

“Then it will take more time,” he returned, not yet angry but not backtracking either. “Trust is easy to lose and hard to gain back, you know this as well as anyone.”

He turned slightly, “And you do not know what Fynn thinks, only he knows that. I do not think he will try to force you to love him, but I am no fool. His feelings for you have not changed simply because you told him no.”

Laurent was smarted than that, surely. Damen looked him in the eye.

“I have chosen to marry you, to spend my life with you. I believe I trust you fully, but if I find out I don’t, only time will heal that. Being angry at me certainly won’t. You broke my heart, even if it was a misunderstanding.” He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. “I love you, and I don’t want anyone else. I hope that will suffice.”

* * *

At any other point in this relationship, Laurent would have stormed off, would not have this conversation /again/. It was a waste of time, it was unnecessary! All it meant was that there was still doubt, which Laurent knew, and that doubt was easily exploitable, which Laurent and Nikandros knew. Laurent was facing something he very much thought inevitable, and the dread of it all twisted his stomach, hollowed his heart, and he needed a second.

Anger wouldn’t help him here, but all the same, he felt it, because he could deal with anger more easily than any other emotion he might be capable of feeling. He had nothing to actually be angry about, except for maybe his own actions, but those were the types of walls Laurent built. Even with all his love for Damen, it was difficult to be emotionally honest with him. Even now.

“Do not call me childish; I know how I am acting,” Laurent said aloud from inside the bubble he’d created of himself. Unloveable. This was one of the persistent flaws that made him unloveable. ‘His actions were unbecoming of a boy his age‘ and all that.

That thought got him to lift his head.

Mere hours left with Damen, and he was acting like /this/. Twenty-one years old and...what? Pouting?

Laurent moved stiffly to unfold himself, and though he still looked downright uncertain of staying, he did lay back down, on his side, facing Damen, but he couldn’t look him in the eye right now. If he did, he would start overcompensating, he’d snap, and they would fight. Laurent couldn’t afford a fight.

And Damen didn’t want one, that much was clear. He’d already tried to diffuse it while Laurent had nearly run from it again, weaponised himself against Damen to...get his way.

“I wish—“ Laurent started, his hand reaching out to rest on Damen’s chest again, not even comfortably, just touching, “-I had your particular brand of honesty. It is as admirable as it is infuriating.”

* * *

Damen held himself together as Laurent shot up from his place, readying himself to be left alone. He didn’t understand how Laurent could act so mature one minute, then act like this the next. Trust was hard to rebuild, and Damen had been severely hurt, he couldn’t heal from that after a few wonderful night in bed with Laurent. Things didn’t work that way.

But he could see Laurent was struggling, he was trying not to be this way. He was trying to be rational, mature. To listen. It made his heart hurt to see as he tried to fight a decade of action instilled in him, designed to make enemies out of everyone but himself.

“Don’t leave,” Damen said quietly, folding his hand over Laurent’s where it rested on his chest. “I could not bear it if you left me right now."

They couldn’t end their time together with an argument. Damen wouldn’t be able to leave.

“I am being honest because I love you, and I will not lie to you to make you feel better about something so serious.” He lifted Laurent’s knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently.

“Tell me what I can do to help you.”

* * *

“I don’t /need/ help,” Laurent hissed in a defeated tone, and his forehead thunked right against Damen’s chest as he took control of himself. “You should not be helping /me/ at all. This is—“ Laurent made a frustrated sound, and then a moment later, he thunked his head against Damen’s chest again.

“You do not owe me anything,” Laurent reasoned. “I—I should be helping you. I should be /better/ than this, and I know it.”

Laurent did not lift his head as he spoke, but he kept on.

“I told myself in nine days that I’d have you trust me again, that I would finally show you and everyone how much I loved you and— how do you even respond to the /ground/ working against you?”

Akielos had suffered. Laurent should not make light of it, should not make it about /them/, but it was the /truth/.

“I’ve lost me time to do that, and I was never better for you, and you deserve /better/, Damianos. I was going to be better.”

* * *

Damen took Laurent in his arms, holding him close. In some respects he agreed that Laurent could be more supportive, but he understood that Laurent was /trying/—more than he ever had for anyone since Auguste had been killed. He could not expect Laurent to undo a decade of pain in two years. Especially with all that had happened during.

“Laurent, nine days would not change what I already know, what I have known for almost two years now,” Damen said softly. “You show me how much you love me every day. Even during all that happened, you never once denounced me or slandered me no matter what I did.”

Damen was not so innocent in that regard. His anger still got the better of him on many occasions.

“I hoped to have these nine days to spend with you with a new appreciation for all you do for me,”he said. “I prepared all my life for a political marriage like my father’s to my mother. My father always saw Jokaste as a glorified pleasure slave, I do not think he would have allowed me to marry her. But instead I found you, and I have all of the love and power in you I could ever want.”

He kissed the crown of Laurent’s head.

“Tell me what you will miss,” he whispered. “So I may give it to you before I go."

* * *

Laurent had equally always prepared himself for a political marriage to some estranged noblewoman that he would never satisfy and ultimately be poisoned by or some similar outcome. His marriage would have been inconsequential for his country unlike Damen’s, but just as mandated by his father. He knew Auguste’s ideal plan for him now, but none of that mattered. Somehow, Laurent had been given this chance to actually marry for love. Love and respect and adoration /and/ power. He’d managed that.

And he’d almost lost it.

“There is more that I will miss than you will be able to give me in the hours we have left,” Laurent murmured, but his tone had become much less /stressed/. He melted into Damen’s arms, loosened up from how terribly he had been. “And I would not have you fretting over me when you have a long journey ahead of you.”

In the cold. In the snow. To a disturbed Kessus.

“This is enough,” Laurent said honestly, tucked there in Damen’s arms, safe and warm. “I will have you again soon enough.” For Laurent /would/ ride to Ios the moment he got the call, if not before. His feelings aside, his soon-to-be kingdom was in need of support, and he wanted to be there to give it. Sooner rather than later.

“If you would torture Nikandros with tales of our love at least once a day, as well, I would be satisfied.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I will tell him of it the whole ride to Kessus,” Damen assured him, holding Laurent tight. A few weeks ago they would have been screaming at each other by now, and things of various danger would have been thrown. Of course, Damen would still fret about Laurent upon leaving—he had to. It was his duy as Laurent’s lover to worry.

Nikandros would be sick of hearing about it in a matter of hours, he was sure. But Damen would explain the whole story, and he wouldn’t leave out the bad. Nikandros was his cloest friend partly because he always gave him the best advice.

“I suppose I should practice what I will say,” Damen murmured, turning to his back and taking Laurent with him to rest on his chest. He liked to feel the weight of Laurent on him—that was one thing he would miss very much.

“Am I allowed to hint that we may someday have a child?” he asked, grinning. “Not anything they can hold us to, but an implication? Or would telling them you asked me to 'fuck children into you' be too much for their dainty ears?"

* * *

Oh, it would haunt him to his grave, those words he had said, but he would not argue about it /now/. This wasn’t the time. It was inconsequential to what time they had left and what they needed to do in it. Laurent just his the warmth of his blush in Damen’s chest as they moved, as he found a place to rest his head.

“Unfortunately, he’s heard that bit,” Laurent chuckled as he drew a little circle around Damen’s piercing. “But do feel free to repeat it. I am certain he would love the reminder.”

He just had to play it off. Simple as that.

“You could tell him about Soren and Lamen,” Laurent went on, breezing right past the child thing. “I am sure he will have questions about this new decoration of yours.” He flicked Damen’s piercing gently before he settled again. Laurent could keep the mood light, as much as he wanted to.

He would miss Damen so much.

“You will let me come to Ios?” Laurent asked after a moment, lifting up on his elbows to look down at Damen, then. “Before the wedding? To help. Then we can ride to Marlas together. Side by side. Enter long-warring allies and leave husbands.”

* * *

Damen laughed at the thought of Nikandros hearing that in Laurent’s accented Akielon. But he was looking forward to telling Nikandros about the prospect of an heir, under the promise of secrecy, of course. Perhaps it would also make Nikanros less wary of the union now that he and Laurent had at least alluded to wanting a child together.

Even if it was just bedroom talk for now.

“Ah yes, he has yet to see the piercings,” Damen chuckled. “I think he won’t notice. He spends too much of his time rolling his eyes at me instead of staring. But he will be shocked to hear about Soren and Lamen—I really have been in Arles for some time, hm.”

He couldn’t wait to be back on Akielon soil, even if it had to be for this. He wante dto be back among his people, where he knew the rules and didn’t have to carry tension with him every time he walked the halls without his guard.

“If it is safe, yes,” Damen murmured, carding his finger through Laurent’s hair. “You can come to Ios and we can go to Marlas together if our countries don’t think it too taboo.” He still wasn’t sure how Akielos would respond to Laurent showing up only in times of tragedy.

“Spring in Ios is wonderful. When the trees flower it smells of my childhood, of only good things."

* * *

If it was safe...

There was no danger that would keep Laurent from Damen.

“I am excited to explore /your/ childhood,” Laurent decided after a moment of thought. He’d successfully dodged the conversation he’d not wanted to have, and this seemed like a safe enough path to tread in the time they had.

“I have seen so little of Ios,” Laurent went on, thinking aloud at that point. “Not but your chambers, your court, your slave halls, and your baths.” And the Kingsmeet.

Laurent was equally looking forward to a trip to Ios that did not end in trauma.

“I want to explore the places you loved, the beaches where you grew.” Laurent wanted to see the environment that made such a good man, gave him such love for his home. Laurent did not care if he had to stand out beneath the boiling sun to see it all.

“I want fruit,” Laurent laughed then, thinking back to the sweet apricots they grew in Akielos.

* * *

It seemed as though Laurent had been there all along. Damen had trouble remembering that he had indeed been in Ios alone for most of the time after his recovery so that Laurent could return to his people and because their rightful kind. They’d had their adventures as Charles and Lamen, but all in all they had little time spent in his home.

He longs for the salty air and the way the waves would lap at his heels where he rested in the sand.

“Hopefully we will have time to see it,” Damen sighed. “I fear Kessus may need me there up until we have to go to Marlas.” Nikandros would be the one sent to Ios, as he was kyros there. Damen obviously had jurisdiction everywhere in the country.

“You have seen the summer palace, that is most important to me, along withs Kingsmeet,” Damen said after a moment. “But there is much of the palace you have yet to see as well. There will be plenty to show you."

* * *

“It does not have to be before the wedding,” Laurent mumbled, his cheek rested comfortably against Damen’s chest. “But one day. I have not spent enough time in Ios.” But it seemed he would have all of his life to do so from here on out.

So long as Damen trusted him long enough to do so.

“Your architecture is still very strange to me,” Laurent did add, stopping only for a moment to turn his head and kiss at Damen’s skin before resting again. “It is so...minimal. Marlas can’t continue to look like that. I will allow Ios to be left as it is.”

Only part of that statement was a joke.

“Kessus will not hold us back for long. With the sheer number of our men and the additional resources we being to each other, we will be able to see through anything. We will be an unstoppable force, Damianos.”

* * *

“And Vere is too ornate,” Damen returned with a grin. “Akielos focuses on the beauty of the materials. We don’t require everything to be covered in gold for it to be beautiful.” Though he would very much like to see Laurent that way, adorned in jewels and gold chains, as he had said before.

But he was not so convinced that Kessus would be an easy fix.

“Earthquakes are not so simple,” Damen said. “Once rubble is removed, things must be rebuilt, and there is always the chance of another quake that would ruin all of our progress. Not to mention it would put us both in danger.”

No one knew how to handle earthquakes. Not even Akielons, and they were supposed to be able to combat them somehow.

He moved an arm behind his head, looking up at the ceiling above them. He loved having Laurent so close, the warmth of his body and his slender limbs draped over him. Laurent was warmer than he was given credit for.

“You will see me off tomorrow, right?” he asked, looking up at Laurent. “Before I depart?"

* * *

“Just after I battle the sun for taking you from me, yes,” Laurent assured Damen as he placed his hand flat on Damen’s chest, used it as a cushion for his chin. The position almost made it look like Laurent was pouting, and he was clearly aware of that by the way he pulled his bottom lip in with his teeth.

“And then I will prepare to ride south when you call for me, along with any additional help you need.” Laurent refused to believe this quake would be more than they could handle together. He had never seen Kessus, but he was certain it could be rebuilt. He would not stray from that.

“You should take your coat,” Laurent added softly. “I know it is not of your style, but it will keep you warm for the northern stretch of your travels. Your cloak is not enough.”

And Laurent would not have Damen’s near death from freezing on his hands as well. He would be fine at the border, but the northern wind and snow from the mountains would prove a problem as long as he was in Vere.

* * *

Damen did so love to see Laurent up close like this. His skin was so smooth and unblemished, as if he took a dip in moon-blessed water whenever he bathed. Damen couldn’t wait to see his skin pink and rosy with sun when he came to Ios.

“I arrived here in my cloak,” Damen argued. “It was warm enough then.” He held Laurent a little closer though, because just thinking about the weather that awaited him made him shiver. “But fine. I’ll take it.” Hopefully it would smell like Laurent for the weeks they were apart.

He lifted a hand to caress Laurent’s cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Will you be warm enough without me?” he asked. “You will be safe for your journey south?"

* * *

Laurent had almost said he most definitely would not be warm enough without Damen by his side, but he already could see where that might take Damen’s mind. He would fear Laurent might go to find his warmth somewhere out, Laurent was certain of it, so instead he only nodded before reaching up to press a kiss to Damen’s nose, his cheek, and then his forehead. Just as he had after their trip to Auguste.

“Jord would be absolutely offended by your asking that,” Laurent did joke on behalf of the second question as he settled down once more, just absorbing what warmth he could from Damen now. Laurent has every intention of stealing someone from Damen’s trunk before he left so that he might actually have a reminder of Damen’s scent in his absence. He would at least have this very spot on the bed where he lay now.

“I will be warm, and I will be safe,” Laurent said, “but I will not be satisfied without you by my side. By anything. I will be a tyrant, and it will be all your fault.”

But Damen already knew that.

“We should have you washed up for the ride,” Laurent continued on a moment later. “Come. We will cover you in Veretian perfumes so your people might smell you from miles and miles away.

* * *

“I will not pretend Jord had always been right in his judgement of your safety,” Damen replied, a rare comment on what had happened with Aimeric. He never forgot Laurent’s decision, and he still wasn’t sure it was justified, though he did understand that it had been Laurent’s decision to make.

He pressed a kiss to Laurent’s forehead, resting his lips against his skin for a moment longer before he agreed to follow Laurent to the baths. He held Laurent’s hand as they walked, unable to stop staring at his perfect face. How he would miss Laurent’s quips, his poor Akielon accent, the way he always held his head so high even in uncertainty.

The bathwater had already been drawn by the time they reached the rooms, and Damen welcomed the warmth and humidity. He stripped from his clothes and left them in a heap at the edge of the tub before wading in. His muscles still ached from training, and warm water always helped him feel better after a long soak.

“It has been too long since I last bathed,” Damen chuckled. “I feel as though I have a layer of grime over all of my body.”

He sprawled in the water, tipping his head back to soak.

“We do have to attend dinner, remember,” Damen hummed, his eyes falling closed. His stomach turned slightly, his body jolted with sudden nerves. “Were you nervous when you made your decree?” he asked, knowing full well the circumstances had been different.

“I’m nervous,” he admitted softly. “I don’t know why, but perhaps I’m afraid they will doubt me."

* * *

“I’ve grown accustomed to your Akielon grime,” Laurent replied as he untied his robe and, unlike Damen, neatly folded it over his arm and draped it over a chair before moving towards the water. The thick air of the baths smelled faintly of chalis, which said to Laurent that someone on this floor had recently used it. Speaking of Jord, Laurent would not be surprised if it had been him. Not for Lucien, but just for the stress Laurent always put him through.

Laurent waded into the water, for though he liked his baths hot, he did have to acclimate to the heat on his skin. He let out a little hiss as he sank up to his collarbones, but then he was quiet again as he tipped water up into his hair, pushed it back.

Which gave a direct and unaffected line of sight to his brows which dropped in concern when Damen confessed he was /nervous/.

“I felt no nerves,” Laurent said evenly, watching Damen now. “I was committed to my decision, and would have the future of our country no other way. No doubt or chagrin would keep me from that.”

But he and Damen were two completely different types of rulers. Laurent had not even spoken of it with the noblemen across Vere. They had heard of the union, obviously, and many had sent letters in their support of it.

“I have been doubted by my kingdom before,” Laurent reminded Damen, not wanting to sound callous. “I have gone to war with my own people. With you by my side. If there are any doubts, any actions from this who are against it, I am confident you and I will be able to right it. As you helped me before.”

* * *

Damen also noticed the faint scent of chalis, and for a moment he was tempted to ask for some. He didn’t enjoy the drug, but the more he thought about his announcement, the more he felt the nerves bundling in his gut. Of course Laurent hadn’t felt nerves - but Damen suspected any anxiety came from the then-real scenario that Damen might refuse him.

“You make it sound as if I’m not committed,” he said peeking through his lashes. “I am. Am I not allowed to be nervous about making a fool of myself in front of your kingdom?” There were about a thousand ways he could mispronounce something or make it sound as if his decision had been rushed. he didn’t have the control of language that Laurent did.

“I want it to be perfect for you,” he added quietly. “I never did formally propose. We simply…started planning.”

/They/ didn’t even do most of the planning. Damen made decisions here and there, but there were councils and committees that had been planning his wedding ceremony since he’d turned five. the union of two countries was certainly different, but they were adapting.

“I will have to imagine you like this,” Damen chuckled, resting his hands on Laurent’s hips in the water. “Though that may cause me embarrassment of a different kind."

* * *

Laurent had not ever really stopped to think about the fact that there had never been a formal proposal. He supposed the closest they’d been was when Damen had been bleeding out in the slave baths in Ios, just before he’d been announced king. To think that was not a decade ago as it felt - not even two years ago!

“I technically proposed, I think,” Laurent murmured thoughtfully, playing the very end of that day in his mind. Damen on the blood-slicked floor, managing to speak and joke as if he’d not taken on a mortal wound. Laurent had first given his idea of a union then, and his foolish, foolish lover had agreed with that “Yes.”

And then he’d passed out for hours - days, in the long run, with only a few waking spells.

“I took advantage of your fading mind,” Laurent teased.

All the same, Laurent did not need perfection. He only needed the decree. Damen need not worry about his Veretian - it was perfectly fine - and he hardly had to worry about the Veretian people. They already suspected the outcome of this, after all, and where they had varying responses to it, no one would speak out against Damen so directly. It would be /much/ different if he had decided /not/ to join their kingdoms and meant to announce that.

But Laurent did not get to say more on that. He felt Damen’s hand at his hips and he turned toward him fully, meeting his gaze.

“Does it ever feel strange? Where we are now?”  
Laurent asked very suddenly, his eyes a fraction wider than normal as the thought dawned on him. It was the feeling of Damen’s hands, the exact positioning that, had they been just out of the bath, would have been an exact mirror of the first time he’d ever seen Laurent like this.

It had ended very differently then.

Of all the ways for Damen to remember him, he had chosen like /this/, and Laurent could only imagine what he had ever done right to have this be more memorable than their first memory here.

Laurent’s fingers ghosted over Damen’s back, the raised welts there that would never disappear. He hardly ever touched them, usually did all he could to avoid them, but he was in just the mindset where he could.

Damen loved him despite /so/ many things.

* * *

Unfortunately, Damen only remembered snippets of that conversation. He couldn’t remember the pain, really, just the exhaustion in his body as he lay there in the baths, Laurent at his side. A brother for a brother, though the circumstances were not the same. Kastor’s death wasn’t allowed to bring him grief, but it did anyway.

His eyes lit up at Laurent’s question, and his lips broke to a fond smile.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “When I wake in Veretian palace as a king and not a prisoner, and turn to find you in bed beside me. I thought I would only have the chance once.” He couldn’t imagine how life might have turned out had he not been permitted to have Laurent. “I think I would have found a way to be with you,” he said. “Even if I were forced to marry someone else. I would visit as often as possible, and sneak you into my chambers at night when you came to Ios.”

He flinched only slightly when Laurent’s fingers moved across one of his scars. Not because they hurt—they didn’t—but because Laurent almost never touched them, and certainly not specifically. Damen rested his cheek against Laurent’s collarbone, closing his eyes briefly.

“I should probably wash,” he murmured. “Or I will still smell like a horse at dinner."

* * *

“You will smell like a horse no matter what you do,” Laurent murmured fondly, and it would have been an outright joke had his mind clearly not wandered somewhere, split his attention between the present and some moment far off.

Laurent genuinely could not imagine what life would be like had he not made it /here/ with Damen. He could imagine he never would have married, but could not see how that would honestly pan out in the long run. Honestly, had he never gotten /here/ with Damen, Laurent probably would have been executed at Ios if not before. His uncle had never expected Damen and Laurent to work together, let alone to not kill each other in the first place.

It seemed fair to assume that, without Damen, there would be no world to truly think about.

So Laurent held him close for a moment more, brought his hands up from the water to cradle his head lovingly. Then, with a kiss to the crown of Damen’s hair, Laurent let up, even took a step back to give Damen a bit of room.

“Wash,” Laurent murmured, handing him the soap from its fine dish alongside the tub. “We’ve dinner yet.”

* * *

Damen took the soap to clean himself, taking time to removed the dirt and dust that had seemingly melded to his skin. he scrubbed away until he was satisfactorily clean, though he noticed that his skin was so much paler than he remembered. Nikandros was much darker than him, and Akielos had still been in winter.

“Will you apply the oils?” he asked Laurent once he was clean of dirt. “I always add too much.” he didn’t, but he wanted Laurent’s fingers on his skin.

He pulled Laurent to him and brought him down for a kiss, long and wanting. He didn’t know how many more kisses they would be able to share before he left.

“I’ll miss you so much,” Damen breathed against Laurent’s lips. He’d said it several times already, but he wanted to be sure Laurent knew. “I’ll send a letter as soon as I reach Kessus and tell you about the situation. Then when I plan to head to Ios, I will let you know so that you can meet me there."

* * *

There was hardly a measurable scale for “too much” in Veretian oils, but Laurent played along - and pointedly stared at Damen while he poured a handful of oil into his palm. In excess. He warmed it in his hands before moving back over to Damen, who only really ended up with oil on his sides from where Laurent took hold of them as they kissed. He did have the end to rub his hands up and down at the very least.

“I will miss you,” Laurent assured Damen, kissing him again, softer this time, while moving his oiled hands up to Damen’s shoulders, around his neck. “Nine days I lost with you. And to /Nikandros/ of all people.” He was doing his best to stay positive, to keep it light as he had not been able to in their bed.

“But I am sure you will enjoy being home,” Laurent mentioned, eyes down on Damen’s collarbones as he spoke. “You have been away for so long. I certainly look forward to seeing it again. All that…gorgeously drab limestone and…/white/, white paint.” He smirked, rubbed the oil over Damen’s chest.

He would be there soon enough, again at Damen’s side. He just had to tell himself that.

* * *

Damen fell into the soft touches, the warmth and humidity of the baths that always made Laurent’s lips turn that much more pink, his lashes fall in just that perfect way. He /would/ enjoy being home, but it would be so much better with Laurent at his side. He would miss moments like this, where Laurent unknowingly seduced him.

“You must learn to appreciate simplicity,” Damen purred. “You do in your attire. We will reverse it. I have already sent a letter to have several things commissioned that may even be ready by the time I properly welcome you to Ios.”

He lifted his arms for Laurent to properly oil his sides and the small of his back.

Once that was finished, Damen helped Laurent wash his hair, mostly using it as an excuse to massage his scalp and shoulders.

He touched plenty, but didn’t press further, even if he wanted to. They did have to attend dinner, and Damen didn’t want to be late for such an important evening.

“I think we should return,” he said. “Are you washed and ready?"

===

“I will have plenty of access to these baths when you do not,” Laurent murmured, pressed to Damen, his head resting comfortably on Damen’s shoulder. He liked it there, had no interest in moving, but Damen had a point. They did have dinner to attend to, and Laurent had Nikandros to torture. He may as well go on and do so for a bit. It would be as if Nicaise were around again. Just someone to poke at, someone he knew could handle him, would tell him how it was.

“I am as ready as I can be,” Laurent reiterated, retreating out of the tub and grabbing two towels - one for himself and one for Damen. It would be too small for Damen, but Laurent did not see the need to comment on it. Damen would have trouble as it was.

Laurent wrapped himself back in his mother’s robe and nodded towards the door. Damen could…wear the towel to his best ability back to their room. Laurent tossed his towel to Damen as if it might help.

“Am I allowed to wear a chiton to dinner this evening?” Laurent teasingly asked as he stripped out of his robe and made his way to his trunk of clothing. “Or are you willing to attend me and my laces?"

* * *

Damen didn’t mind wearing only his small towel on the way back to their room, and he slung Laurent’s over his shoulders like a fox fur. He very much liked the idea of Laurent wearing nothing under his robe, and that was what made Damen ultimately decide that he should not wear a chiton.

"I am already tempted to grab your ass,” Damen replied with a grin. “I do not think my thoughts would improve if you decided to wear a chiton instead, though it would be much easier for when we finally return to our chambers for the night.”

He dropped his towel soon after entering their room and moved behind Laurent, looking over his head to see what he was deciding on. Laurent dressed conservatively, but his outfits spared no expense on fine detail and fabric. Even his plain black jackets had velvet inlays and various stitches that made them more beautiful up close.

He pressed a kiss to Laurent’s shoulder to let him continue his decision and went to his own trunk. He already knew which chiton he would wear. It was customary to pack one outfit for any unexpected moments of supreme formality.

This chiton was made of the purest white silk, embroidered with tiny lions that were silver instead of gold, almost hidden in the silk. His cape was a rich red, a tapestry of scenes in vibrant gold. Soldiers riding to victory, a lion hunt, a parade of proud horses a laurel crown.

Damen had it pinned within moments, and then pulled out his sandals, opting against boots this evening. once they were fastened, he turned to Laurent with a proud grin.

“I am ready to attend you,” he announced. “You and your troublesome laces that I will have to cut off later."

* * *

As Damen dressed, Laurent started on himself, picking out a fine pair of trousers he could see to without attendance. He pulled them up over his legs, smug with himself and the effect he still had on Damen. Usually, Laurent found reactions to his appearance a nuisance, or far too predictable to be enjoyable any longer, but he quite liked the effect he still held over Damen. He liked it quite a lot.

With his breeches tied and his boots pulled over them, he turned to Damen—

And could not help but marvel at him for a moment.

“I’ve not seen this one,” Laurent praised as Damen neared him, taking the fine fabric between his fingers and sliding the smooth silk against itself. The embroidered lions gleamed in the lamplight. “Silver quite suits you.”

With his sleeves tied and adjusted around his cuff, it was Damen’s turn to take the long-winded task of lacing and tying Laurent’s jacket. It alone took twice as long as Damen’s entire look for the evening.

But Damen worked with deft fingers. Laurent was far too comfortable being attended by a king, but Damen did it more quickly than any other. He had been trained better than anyone in Arles, and Laurent did not see it as a servant’s task. He would do the same for Damen if his clothing were so intricate and difficult. Laurent found it nice, having these moments with Damen, as they were now. He hoped Damen felt the same.

“If you do decide to grab my ass,” Laurent started just as they were about to head towards the dining hall. “Please do it in front of Nikandros. Just once. I want to watch him squirm.”

* * *

“It was packed in case of an important event,” Damen said proudly, glad that Laurent liked it. He dutifully approached and helped Laurent with his laces. He enjoyed doing them, watching a bit of string become part of an outfit, as though he was sewing it himself. He knew the routine of it to the point that he could talk while doing it, and could even look away if something else called his attention.

“Nikandros has been put through enough suffering for one day,” Damen chuckled. “he needs to rest tonight, not be plagued with nightmares of the two of us.” Nightmares that would be playing out just a few rooms down, he was sure.

Damen pressed a short, fond kiss to Laurent’s lips—his finish touch once he was laced.

“Will you place my crown?” Damen asked, fetching it from his trunk. He offered it to Laurent with a smile, then turned to collect an earring or two for an extra bit of jewelry. He wanted tonight to be marked for the special occasion it was.

* * *

“Really trying to make an impression, are we?” Laurent asked, fixing Damen’s crown amidst the curls he’d left himself on top of his head. Laurent still mourned the hair that Damen had done away with, but in time, he knew it would grow back.

“You look wonderful,” he followed up with, running his hands down the silk chiton, smoothing out where he could. Chitons were not meant to lay as seamlessly as his own jackets, but it was something Laurent had watched his family do before meetings, so he followed suit. It was engrained in him, so to speak. “This might just be intricate enough to please Vere.”

With a little smile, Laurent leant forward and pressed yet another kiss to Damen’s lips. So help anyone who tried to stand between them tonight. Laurent would not have it.

“How do you think they would respond if I sat in your lap all dinner?” Laurent asked. “Sure, it would not be practical, but practicality on an evening such as this feels unnecessary.” And it would help him absolutely ruin Nikandros’ night.

* * *

Damen felt complete with his crown. He’d never wanted it, per se, but having it made him feel like he was finally where he was supposed to be in life. Every since childhood, this crown was supposed to be his. Kastor had tried to take it from him, and for a time Damen had wanted him to have it—he would have respected it if his father had decided to keep Kastor as heir.

“I know how /I/ would respond,” Damen laughed. “And I would not be able to stand up to make my speech, so you will have to sit beside me—and not tease me. I will be nervous enough to speak without your fingers running up my thigh.”

He knew he was asking for Laurent to do just that, but Damen really was nervous. He didn’t even know why—he never had trouble speaking to his men or to the Veretian council. He was a king! But he wanted this to be perfect. he wanted Laurent to be seen for the man he was, for the loving protector that he was.

“There will be plenty of time for that later,” Damen added with a smile. “Now, do you think I should announce at the beginning of the meal? I think that would be the best time. That way, you can sit in my lap afterward if you’d truly like to."

* * *

“I am more worried about the regurgitation of your food if you decide to announce after eating.”

Laurent wasn’t nervous, not in the least. To be terribly honest, he didn’t feel much excitement about it either. To him, it felt /right/, expected, felt that it was precisely how things should be. It was predictable and the most pragmatic decision on both of their parts. He had no doubt in him, no worry. There was no reason for nerves.

“You must calm down,” Laurent smiled at Damen, rubbing his hands up and down his betrothed’s arm, trying to soothe him, release him of his nerves. “They expect it. Truly. You do not need to make it a show if you do not desire it. I will know your intentions and your heart.”

He kissed Damen again, slid his hand down into Damen’s and gave it a squeeze.

“I’ll not have any more of our evening trapped in hesitancy,” Laurent said decidedly again, dragging Damen over to the mirror so they could both check their appearances. Laurent made a quick grab for his crown when he realised it was very much not on his head. He so often still wore his circlet that sometimes, the idea of /the/ crown just...slipped his mind.

“You are everything I want,” Laurent told Damen’s reflection in the mirror, where they stood, side by side. “And you will be everything Vere needs. Do not think otherwise.”

* * *

Damen tried to calm himself when Laurent rubbed his arms, but it was difficult. He took a breath, grinning nervously and feeling a little foolish. Even if Vere expected it, he still wanted to /meet/ those expectations. But he supposed all that mattered was Laurent approved and wanted this just as much as he did.

He thumbed along the side of Laurent’s palm, looking over him. He looked so regal in a crown—his head was truly deserving of one. Damen couldn’t hope to look so fitting in his.

“I just hope I deserve it,” Damen murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to Laurent’s cheek.

There wasn’t time to waste. Damen looked himself over once more, then walked out with Laurent down to the dining hall. The room was buzzing with activity, and all eyes turned to them as they entered, dressed considerably more formal than everyone else.

Nikandros looked like he had at least slept in the few hours they had been apart. Damen greeted him with a fond slap to the back before he pulled out Laurent’s chair for him to sit. He greeted the council and his representatives from Akielos who reminded him once again that this was not just about a wedding.

“Welcome,” he greeted. “Before we begin our meal, I am afraid I must announce my leaving.” Murmurs rippled through the crowd. “Akielos has experienced destruction by way of earthquakes, and I must attend to my kingdom in this time of need. King Laurent has generously agreed to assist, and we are thankful.” Damen dipped his head to Laurent in gratitude. He kept it simple, as he knew Vere probably cared little about it, and he didn’t want to make Akielos seem weak.

“I am also here to announce happier news. I have agreed to Laurent’s decree for our union, and I am here today to formally pledge my life, my crown, and my service to him as a husband,” Damen announced. His stomach fluttered, but he was smiling, though he kept it contained out of respect for his hurting country. “I look forward to the joining of Vere and Akielos, and I hope to be a compliment to Laurent’s leadership and continue strengthening both of our nations.”

He took Laurent’s hand and brought his knuckles to his lips.

“I hate to leave after such an announcement, but I hope at least my marriage to Laurent will not come as a surprise."

* * *

Laurent had so boldly said he was not nervous—

But now, he was nervous.

He did not look it, of course. He looked as calm as ever, sat in his seat - where he promised to sit at first - and merely reaching for his water. He did not seem at all bothered or like there would soon be some large announcement that would change the fate of his entire country as well as Akielos’.

Laurent let his eyes wander a bit more than he usually would, perhaps, leveling them on Fynn for a second longer than the other when he spotted him.

He wondered if Fynn knew him well enough to see the nerves.

Damen rose to speak, and Laurent looked up at him, giving him as much attention as he could with his wandering mind. Laurent’s expression gave away nothing as he listened, though he did hurt when he heard Damen announce his leaving. Even being well aware it was happening, he did not want to hear it.

The murmurs that followed were those of people who did not know what was coming next. Laurent could reasonably assume many people thought it was Damen’s way of leaving Laurent for the rumours about the Herzog. Others, like Laurent, had never heard of such quakes in the earth, and were merely discussing what that could entail.

Laurent was much more focused on their Akielon guests, and found himself sweeping his eyes over them, trying to judge /their/ reactions.

He did not have much time before Damen broke the happier news, and that was when he first started noticing changes in their expressions.

Worry for their home turned into close-lipped looks of acceptance, none too pleased or terribly interested. One man elbowed the man next to him, a common ‘I told you so’ gesture. And then, Laurent saw smiles. He saw a few small grins, one wide, all of them pleased and supportive of Damen— even if they did slide their gaze to Laurent as if sizing him up, testing his worth.

He allowed it.

Of course he allowed it. This was /his/ announcement of union. Damen was committing himself to Laurent officially. In front of everyone. He and Damen, bound and wed, ruling as two kings over once warring lands. It was the best news he had ever heard in his life, the best decree he had ever been party to.

But there was a moment of unease that followed that no one could miss. Akielos looked at Vere, and Vere looked Akielos. It was a deafening silence, a suffocating set of seconds.

It was not the response Laurent had expected when his union in life was announced, but then, he had never expected his union to anyone to be announced.

“A wedding.”

It was Lady Vannes who spoke up first, comfortable in her seat, her face as untelling as Laurent’s. “I suppose we will see Marlas again soon enough."

* * *

Damen did not expect such stunned silence. Surely everyone knew they were to be married - that was not a shock to anyone. He gestured for the food to be brought out and took his seat again, his hands shaking with adrenaline as he took Laurent’s palm in his own.

“Yes,” he replied to Lady Vannes. “At the end of spring, or earlier, depending on preparations.” She blinked, likely surprised by the closeness of their perspective date. Damen had to wonder if Laurent had just hidden the entire wedding from the council.

“May I be the first to offer my congratulations,” Fynn said, nodding to each of them. “And that I’m sorry to hear what has happened to Akielos. Simply say the word and I can send aid from my estate in Kempt.”

“Thank you,” Damen replied, trying not to sound forced.

Nikandros gave Damen a pat on the back. “You did well.”

It didn’t feel that way. But Damen smiled anyway. he pressed a kiss to Laurent’s cheek.

“And what did you think?"

* * *

Damen’s hand shook in Laurent’s, and Laurent had to squeeze to still it as he gave off just the response he felt his people needed to see: comfort and pride. He even gave a nod of gratitude to Fynn, daring to let his eyes roam over their guests and, upon seeing so many eyes on /him/, so many wary expressions turned his way, he instantly knew the problem.

“You were wonderful,” Laurent replied confidently, his hand moving into Damen’s hair where Laurent, even confidently and boldly, pulled Damen right in for a kiss. There, in front of everyone, with no hesitation and no regard to their audience and how they might use it against him. And it was not a chaste kiss. It was long enough that it had the time to inspire someone on the Akielon side of the table to spurt out a ‘congratulations to you both,’ followed by a, ‘well met,’ and the rabble started from there.

Laurent sat back in his chair, his eyes settled warm on Damen, pleased, as he reached for his water.

Their guests had not known how to respond, Laurent gathered. For the royalty of Vere, weddings were historically political, as Laurent had told Damen and Nikandros. They were nothing to /celebrate/, really. And Laurent had been notoriously pragmatic and clinical about the union up until now.

And, perhaps, they were in a bit of genuine shock from Damen actually following through with the union after everything.

As for Akielos, most of the men that joined them at their table had heard the rumours of Laurent - of who he regularly was and what he’d done to Damen more recently. Most likely, they feared speaking out should Laurent be irritated by their celebration. They had clearly not spoken with Makedon or Damen’s guard, had not heard the rumours of who Laurent /could/ be.

Showing them a side of his rarely seen warmth had definitely helped.

Laurent himself had been the foil to an otherwise perfect proposal.

It came as no surprise to him.

* * *

Damen didn’t expect the kiss, and it probably showed on his face for a moment when Laurent pulled him in. A thrill ran through him as he realized that this was probably the first time everyone had seen them kiss beyond short goodbyes and the occasional lingering of their lips together.

Laurent was known for having himself perfectly collected at all times, and Veretians and Akielons alike were stunned at such a display. Dmane heard their delayed approval, but the room was spinning a bit when Laurent pulled away.

Things were lighter after that, though Damen did have to discuss things of importance with Nikandros as they ate. Akielons were explaining to Veretians what quakes entailed, though the language barrier was certainly still there as they tried to converse. Still, it was an improvement.

All the while, Damen kept his hand entwined with Laurent’s, squeezing occasionally to remind him that he was still here, that he wouldn’t be leaving until the last possible moment.

* * *

Laurent listened over on Nikandros’ and Damen’s conversation, making himself completely unreachable by any member of his own council, but they did not need to speak with them. None of this came as a surprise to them from his end, though the idea of Akielos already needing their assistance had been whispered about. Whoever had said it was lucky Laurent was in a good mood, lucky he had more important business listening to the plan for Akielos.

They spoke quickly among themselves, which meant a lot of luck translation for Laurent, but he picked up on key points and was smart enough to infer from there. He interrupted only once to have a phrase translated to him that he’d not heard before, then let them continue when he realised it was of absolutely no help to him.

A few times, Laurent looked over to Fynn, trying to read anything off his expression, but they were too far to speak normally amidst the table.

He wondered if Fynn planned to leave soon as well, and he found himself dreading the yes /and/ the no response.

Laurent turned back to Damen and Nikandros.

“Stop talking and properly eat,” Laurent finally told Damen, squeezing his knee roughly. “Neither of you will travel well if you’ve no food in you."

* * *

Damen hadn’t realized how engrossed in conversation he was until Laurent grabbed his knee. There was so much to discuss, and it was difficult for him to leave such an important conversation. Thankfully, Laurent was a very compelling one. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he replied with a nod and a smirk. He took up his spoon to scoop up a healthy sip of soup and made sure Laurent was watching as he drank it.

He focused on his meal then, after realizing that this would be the last good meal he ate in some time. Savory meats and breads would be scarce in the field, especially with how low grain reserves were already.

Eating with a crown was always an experiment in balance, but Damen was thankful that his hair prevented most f the catastrophe.

“Will you go with him?” Fynn asked Laurent quietly once Damen had been engaged in conversation elsewhere. He would of course offer help as needed, but he knew better than to try to meddle in affairs that concerned Damen.

“I would like to stay here, if only to avoid traveling north in the dead of winter. But I understand if you would like me to stay somewhere else,” he added. “I can make arrangements."

* * *

Damen ate, which was all Laurent asked of him, so he let him go about conversations, even if these moments could have been precious private moments between them. Damen needed to focus on what was before him, and Laurent had to allow that. They were kings, and their countries came first. That was just how it had to be.

So he turned his attention to Fynn as conversations sounded about them, pulling attention in all directions and away from them. People had risen from the table and moved into corners, moved about the room to discuss the union, the quakes, the wedding, with nothing but their wine glasses in their hand. Laurent’s hands were wrung in front of him, though he managed to make it look like more of a posture decision than one of stress.

“I will go when he calls,” Laurent confirmed for Fynn, reaching up without thought to pluck a curl that clung to Fynn's eyebrow from his face. “He does not want me there right away. Appearances and all that, but I do plan to travel to Ios, yes. But that hardly means I will ask you to leave.”

His smooch turned at that, but pragmatism over feelings. He could not send a duke into the dead of winter over appearances. He had made the decision without a thought, on the instinct of sensibilities. Laurent had to wonder how that might affect him later.

“You’ve arrangements here. Don’t be foolish.”

* * *

Fynn didn’t expect Laurent to regard him with any sort of affection, so he was shocked when Laurent adjusted his hair. He frowned softly, trying to convey that that was a risky action, even if he’d just been confirmed to wed the Akielon prince.

“I made arrangements to return home with your hand,” Fynn reminded him. “I will stay, but do not feel as though I must. There are other cities I can stay in.” He did not want to be a temptation for Laurent, no matter how flattering the prospect seemed.

Fynn returned to his food then, and excused himself a short time later. Though he was supportive of Laurent, he could only take so much of this. Damen didn’t hide his relief once Fynn was gone, and took Laurent’s hand again, bringing it to his lips to kiss his knuckles.

“You are stressed,” Damen said, glancing down at Laurent’s hand. “I think it is time we retired for the evening. We will have to wake early.”

Nikandros looked tired enough on his own, and Damen knew he had many hours yet of being awake to make sure Laurent was truly going to be okay without him. His priority was Laurent until they left the palace and said their goodbyes.

* * *

It wasnt the conversation Laurent had wanted with Fynn, but he did not find it at all odd. It seemed friendly, with all the same stakes. Laurent had moved right on from what conflict they had, practical as ever.

At least in this moment.

“I’ve been more relaxed in my time, yes,” Laurent murmured to Damen, freeing up his hands the moment Damen pointed them out. He knew Laurent too well. “But I would not admit to being stressed.” Though he obviously very much was. It would be best to draw attention elsewhere.

“Nikandros,” Laurent called, leading Damen over to his friend. “We’ve plenty of room on our floor if you would like to join us for a - what do you call it?” He turned to Damen, trying to find a nice Akielon word that meant only ‘sleep over’ and not ‘orgy.’ It seemed like something Akielons would toss together.

* * *

Nikandros looked as though his face might melt off with the force of his annoyance. Damen smirked, though he did feel bad for Nikandros having to suffer through all of this with no lover of his own to complain to.

“I already have a room that it still not far enough away, I fear,” Nikandros grumbled. “Damianos, do remind your betrothed that you will need to sleep at some point tonight if you are to ride the day through tomorrow.”

Damen was lost in Laurent’s eyes, too entranced by him to respond beyond a hum. He couldn’t imagine parting from him tomorrow, and he wished that it would be possible to do this in a way that both of them could stay together. Things were still so new, but at least this hadn’t happened the week before. He had to be thankful for that.

“I would very much like to return to our room,” Damen said, giving Laurent’s hips a little tug. “May we leave now or would you like to tease Nikandros further?”

“I would prefer you two leave so you may tire yourselves before I have to sleep,” Nikandros muttered.

* * *

Despite his heart slowly finding its way down into his feet, Laurent smirked, placing his own hands over Damen’s at his hip to keep him close. Damen had such large hands, proportional to the rest of his body without a doubt, but still larger and stronger than Laurent’s. Laurent quite liked being touched by those hands, held by them, and come the morning, he would rue every moment he snatched away from Damen, gave up those touches, took them for granted.

“I can think of other ways to ruin Nikandros’ night,” Laurent replied to Damen, speaking about Nikandros as if he were not there just as Nikandros had done with him.

Picking at Nikandros gave Laurent more joy than he probably deserved in this moment. Nicaise would have just adored Nikandros’ temperament.

It took a moment more, but Laurent did end the ‘longingly looking into each other’s eyes’ moment that many had caught on to. It rang as odd with many of them, visibly, but Laurent did not care. He took Damen’s hand and motioned to the door with a nod of his head, just as interested in leaving as Damen was.

That being said, Laurent waited to clear they room before he huddled up close to Damen, reared his head on Damen’s bicep as they walked the halls back to their room.

“Damianos of Akielos and Vere— or /Akiere/,” Laurent said with that horrible, nasally inflection of his accent that he only played up for the joke. “Perhaps Damianos of Verelos /does/ have a better ring to it.” Laurent wrinkled his nose and tried again with the title, this time pronouncing it as something closer to ‘Vair-elle-oss.’

It was a still odd.

“You did not vomit,” Laurent praised, kissing Damen’s bare arm before giving him proper space again. “I am as proud as I am astonished.”

* * *

Damen said goodnight to Nikandros and waved goodbye to a few of his other men, who all nodded their heads with mischievous grins. Damen pretended not to notice. He truly felt like a king in that moment, with all of the glory and splendor of a Veretian palace and the most eligible man in the kingdoms at his side.

Once they were outside, he momentarily stopped when Laurent rested his head against him. He didn’t think Laurent had ever held him so affectionately while they walked, but it made him warm all over.

“We will come up with the perfect name soon, I am sure,” Damen murmured, reaching across his chest to fold his hand over Laurent’s.

He chuckled. “I did not vomit because I spoke immediately,” he said. “Had I waited, I likely would have.” The announcement had gone as well as he could hope it would, but he would have ruined it had he waited until the end of the meal.

When they returned to their chambers, Damen removed his crown and set it in his trunk, knowing it would be the last time he wore it in Arles for a very long time.

Then he returned to Laurent to begin unlacing him. “Would you rather me cut them or unlace them?” Damen asked, smiling. “You do have such a beautiful outfit I would hate to ruin."

* * *

“You would be doing a grand disservice to Charls if you cut these laces,” Laurent softly chastised Damen, staring out across their bedroom while Damen unlaced his wrists. The room was already so spacious, had always been. Most people in their homes never had this much space for only their sleeping, but a royal life had afforded Laurent plenty of space. He had always lived in it alone, had never truly realised how much space he had until he had someone to share it with…and then lost that person. The room would feel so empty without Damen there, especially with his general size.

“I believe they are…some sort of Vaskian silk worm’s secretions. Something like that. I am sure he made it sound much more elegant.”

With his wrists freed, Laurent turned his back to Damen for the worst of the lacing. They were so many small rivets down his back, but his outfits were made so no one would have to look him in the face for long.

“I must admit,” Laurent went on after a moment, “As its come to my head, that I genuinely despised chitons when I first wore on.” Damen certainly had, as Laurent remembered, but perhaps that had been part of his plan. “All that skin and vulnerability. I thought, ‘that is something he can afford’ when I saw you, but the majority of your men?” It was just a jab, light and quiet. Laurent was digging as he had with Nikandros, just a bit of fun. “But then, I had never had these moments to long for more easily removed garments.”

He shrugged out of his jacket.

“Who will attend me when you are gone, hm?” Laurent asked Damen as he turned to him. He looped his arms around Damen’s neck, stared up at him. “I live in fear you might maim the poor attendant who tries.”

It was less about the incident with Fynn and more about Damen’s habit of overprotection. He had outdone an entire tribe of men who had taken them captive, had literally flung a full-sized sword at a man who tried to kill Laurent, pulled out a sword at the kingmseet, taken down a fair amount of men in a full bar brawl….

Damen was a horrifying force when he put his mind to it. Laurent thought it was sweet.

Most of the time.

* * *

Damen moved right along with Laurent’s laces. the routine of it helped to settle his racing heart, the anxiety building up in his chest. He could unwind the Vaskian worm silk--or whatever it was—and focus entirely on it instead of all of the things they needed to say and do before he left.

He helped Laurent out of his jacket and set it aside. He always loved to see Laurent in his undershirts—he adored the way the light played through the backside, exposing the rare silhouette of Lauren’ts bare body.

“You will want to wear one every day in Ios,” Damen hummed. “As for your attendant, will Lucien not suffice?” He hated to think of anyone else putting hands on Laurent’s body when he couldn’t. Everyone in Vere loved to talk about how fuckable Laurent was.

“Would you like your selected attendant to meet with me first?” he asked, smiling. “I could intimidate them to your liking, and punish them accordingly should they push their boundaries.”

His arms wound around Laurent’s waist, holding him tight. He leaned down for a kiss, slow and sweet.

“It won’t be long until we’re together,” he reminded Laurent. “Anything you need, simply tell me."

* * *

“You have already intimidated them all,” Laurent chuckled, a little hum in the back of his throat, still quite pleased from their kiss. “Anyone in the kingdom who speaks of touching me instantly mentions you, and my attendants grow wary of what image is painted of you.” Damen was a puppy, could be an absolute angel. He had a good heart and would never harm anyone weaker than him - he thought it amoral. But many Veretians did not know Damen as Laurent did. Fair assumptions could be made.

“I need you to be safe,” Laurent did respond to Damen’s wish for his needs. He reached up to pop the pin on Damen’s chiton, pulled away his fine cape, his golden lions. “I need you to take care of yourself. I fear you and Nikandros together. Your strength and your combined wilfulness...”

“You will not ride through day and night without rest.” Laurent removed his own undershirt who that they might be in even states of undress.

Damen’s body was so different from his. From colour to build to size, Laurent found himself envious of it. His hands traced down Damen’s chest, moving to the tie at his waist. Laurent always felt he rushed this, but how could he not? Akielon clothing was /too/ easy, and Laurent could never wait to see Damen bared and /his/. He was everything Laurent could never be, intimidating without even trying. A gorgeous, gentle giant.

Laurent loved him so.

“You will be /wise/, and you will travel like you’ve sense in you,” Laurent continued to demand of Damen, his tone soft. “Your people will need you well. And you will not hesitate to call for me for appearances. The moment you are in need, you send for aid. I will be there in mere days.”

Laurent kissed Damen again as if that might seal the deal Damen had not even agreed to.

“Now, my husband-to-be,” Laurent tacked onto the end of his list of needs, “Take me to bed.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late Update: Laptop did not want you to have this. Apologies~

“Nikandros will not allow harm to come to me,” Damen assured Laurent, shifting slightly as the weight of his chiton fell from his shoulder. He still had plans to ride the day through, but that would depend on many factors. The weather, mainly. And how late he ended up leaving Arles. Something always came up that kept him longer than he wanted…though he never really made an effort to avoid distraction.

His chiton fell away, and Damen shivered slightly in the evening chill. Laurent did so love to undress him, and Damen never minded the exposure in the quiet of their chambers. “Wisdom, sense, calling for aid—have you hit your head? Do you know whom you’re speaking to?” Damen teased. He reached forward, grabbing Laurent by the waist and lifting him with ease. He wrapped his arms around the backs of Laurent’s thighs to give him balance, then walked him over to bed before dumping him on the mattress with a grin.

He grabbed Laurent’s pants next, making quick work of the laces and pulling them off with a practiced movement, along with Laurent’s hellish boots.

“I haven’t yet decided how I want you,” Damen said as he crawled into bed over Laurent, his cock already heavy between his legs. He brought his lips to Laurent’s neck, kissing and nipping at the soft skin there, sucking fresh marks into his bruisable skin.

“How about on your side?” he asked, running a hand up Laurent’s inner thigh. “We haven’t tried that since the inn. Or should I bind your wrists to the headboard?” He nipped slightly harder. “I fear the pleasure may be too much for you,” he taunted. “Especially if we were to try both. You may find yourself wanting me far too much when I am gone. Tell me, Laurent, do you plan to try to find pleasure by your own hand?” He pushed Laurent’s thighs apart, pulling back to smirk at him.

“What will you be thinking of when you do?"

* * *

The furs atop the bed were warm against Laurent’s back, and he ran his fingers through them while Damen fought with his boots. Laurent helped where he pleased, but he did so adore it when Damen became the least bit frustrated. It brought something out in him that Laurent did so love.

And when Damen moved atop him, Laurent could see he’d definitely gotten there. His eyes were darker than usual, his body warm, and his interest already apparent.

Laurent smiled.

His thighs parted themselves as Damen ran down the list of possibilities, but truth be told, Laurent did not have any preference. He just wanted this moment with Damen, wanted this intimacy, this passion, wanted /this/ between them and he did not care how he took it.

“/If/ I do,” Laurent countered for Damen’s question, still lying completely prone beneath him, “It will be of you and the way you get after the second time you cum in an evening.” It was usually that time when Damen rutted on out of pure desire to just /have/ Laurent. There was no exchange of pleasantries, just them, together, untethered by what was supposed to be attractive, what was couth, what was meant to happen, and all of that.

Laurent turned his head to the side to allow Damen easier access to his neck, all the while tracing the veins in Damen’s arms with his eyes, right up to his broad shoulders. All that muscle...

“But I don’t believe you are mindful of yourself in those moments to understand what I mean by that,” Laurent grinned, reaching to kiss Damen’s forearm.

“On my side,” Laurent decided a moment after. “I’ll not be kept from touching you tonight.”

* * *

“You compliment me,” Damen purred between kisses. If only Veretians could have heard /that/. that Laurent not only liked Damen in bed, but that he liked him better the second time. It was true that he wasn’t as mindful the second time, but in his mind that was because he no longer needed to worry about Laurent being open enough to take him. He wanted to maintain that he never harmed Laurent in bed. 

Damen moved off of him when Laurent decided what he wanted and grabbed the oil, handing it to him. “I want to see how you’ll prepare yourself when I’m gone,” he said. “Or will you even bother trying to simulate the thickness of my cock?"

Normally he wasn’t half so crude, but Damen was nervous about tomorrow, and for some reason that reverted him to the more..adolescent side of himself. 

And if he was being quite honest, Damen wanted to have something to visualize while he was away. Because he /would/ be taking himself in hand, and probably quite often if he had even a moment to think of Laurent while alone. 

* * *

“And what would I do it with?” Laurent chuckled as he poured the oil into his hands and warmed it in his palms. “A tree branch? A vase? I suppose I /could/ use a bottle of wine, but that would be terribly cold.”

It wouldn’t take Laurent much work to open himself up. There was nothing three of his own fingers could do for him anyway. In comparison, his fingers were long yes, but much too thin to even pretend he could prep for Damen properly. But he knew now it was foolish not to try, so he got to it.

Laurent arched his back and reached behind him, slipping one oiled finger into himself with little resistance, and after a moment, a second. He bit his lip, held back something of a laugh at this.

Last he’d done this, he’d been in his guise as Soren, making a show of it, splayed and for Damen’s eyes. Now, this just seemed silly. It was certainly pointless, noting at all like what Damen gave him. It was almost underwhelming.

He slipped in a third finger and finally had a real reaction to it. His lips parted, his eyes slipped shut, his brow creased as he pushed himself back on his own hand—

And he instantly turned his face into the fur beneath, thinking this was more exposure than he usually liked.

* * *

Damen watched with darkened eyes as Laurent prepped himself, but it wasn’t the same show as he had given with Soren. He supposed he understood—they’d made love so many times since then that Laurent’s fingers probably didn’t provide enough pleasure. He squirmed at the thought that soon Laurent would be completely tight again, unused to his cock.

A smile came to his face when Laurent finally started to feel something, and he took it as his cue to slick his length with oil and crawl into bed.

“You turn your face away,” he murmured, reaching to grip Laurent’s hips and turn him on his side. “Why would you hide you pleasure from me?” He guided Laurent’s hand away from his entrance, then lined the head of his cock to his hole.

With a soft grunt, Damen pushed himself inside, moving slowly to allow Laurent to adjust around him as he moved deeper. he held Laurent’s thighs wide apart until he found himself pushed to the hilt. that very movement had taken several minutes their first time after he arrived back in the kingdom.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he panted quietly. “I want you to ride me."

* * *

brain decided to properly take a break and let him focus on /Damen/ and not himself. His fingers weren’t going to get him to a place of desire like Damen’s thick digits would have. All he could focus on in the moments leading up to Damen pushing into him was how his thighs shook as Damen held them open, how his toes pointed like some dancer.

Laurent was exposed, and very aware of it, cold and on display, and he remained all too mindful of it until Damen /finally/ breached him.

The sound Laurent made could have been part for show, but it wasn’t strong enough for him to have wanted Nikandros to hear it. He’d let out a soft little choked off sound, his face still turned into the fur.

He would /never/ get used to Damen’s girth. The man was a giant, through and through.

Laurent settled on Damen’s cock after a few /long/ moments, adjusting and rocking his hips just enough to stretch and prep himself for any real movement. He made little circles, tried to keep his noises to himself.

Laurent’s fingers paled in comparison to Damen’s cock, and right when he finally thought himself ready to move, Damen decided to move /him/.

“I do wish you would have decided that before,” Laurent panted right back, his voice airy as he levelled his breathing. “I am very much facing the wrong way.”

* * *

“For the second time I take you, then,” Damen offered, rubbing his hands over Laurent’s body. He took it as a compliment the way Laurent quieted and still when he was finally inside him, as though unable to think of anything else except his cock. It was just as stimulating to him as Laurent adjusted around him, stretching and shifting, occasionally squeezing his length as he worked himself open.

Once he felt Laurent was adjusted around him, Damen shifted up to an elbow, hooking his other arm over Laurent’s chest both to hold himself up and to keep Laurent in place. He rocked his hips, groaning at the sensation of Laurent so tight around him. Gravity helped give Laurent more tightness, and Damen appreciated every moment of it as he fucked, his midsection trembling with strain.

After a few more moments, he moved his arm to hook under Laurent’s thigh, hoisting it up and wide, pinning it there to keep him open.

His mouth went to Laurent’s neck, leaving messy kisses up his nape, marking where he could with bites and bruises.

“Laurent,” he hissed, thrusting a little harder. He started into a faster pace, quick juts of his hips. He was losing control, Laurent was just too tight around him. “M’close,” he grunted.

He just hoped Laurent was close too, or else they would be starting their evening imbalanced.

* * *

The second time. There it was.

Laurent supposed there were things they could discuss, things they could be clearing up before they parted - their union would be their next meeting now, and it seemed they really should be laying out some sort of plan - but none of that came to mind as he was now.

He held Damen’s arm when it was over his chest, face still mostly turned into the covers as this position allowed. He felt more comfortable with the noises he made, felt more open to make them when his face was partially hidden. It was like being under the guise of Soren, wearing a mask that made him warm up to letting himself /be/ himself more quickly.

And he got there, pretty quickly really.

Damen moved, and Laurent’s next moan was not at all soft. He choked it off - he always did when he noticed he was loud - but the next whine of a sigh that followed couldn’t be helped. The one following that could not either. He swallowed the third and bowed his head, letting himself just feel Damen, maybe forgetting to breath once or twice as he just /enjoyed/ it, took it. Damen filled him perfectly, stretches him and claimed him in a way Laurent only ever craved from him, and he often forgot about that until he had him again.

Laurent could imagine Damen had had better in bed, but Laurent had not.

Pressure built, and Laurent was not able to keep himself from letting up on Damen’s arm and reaching down to touch himself. He obviously knew what to do with his cock during sex, but he often times forgot about that as well, not thinking it a priority until it was a necessity. He jerked himself once, twice, and then with a genuine gasp of surprise that came with Damen hitting him just where he needed at the time he needed it, Laurent spilled into his hand, came on Damen’s cock, his poor thigh’s shaking unable to be controlled despite how much he would have loved it to be so.

* * *

Damen didn’t have the ability to hold back once he moved past his edge. He fisted the blankets at Laurent’s side, pumping his hips in an effort to get deeper and use more speed. Laurent’s unabashed noises always sent him to the brink of release, and this time was no different.

Thankfully, whenever he felt the pooling heat in his abdomen, Laurent often felt it just as fast. Damen had fucked him enough times to feel when Laurent was close, even if he couldn’t see the way Laurent’s jaw went slightly slack, or the way his eyelids fluttered just before.

Damen adjusted himself accordingly, bracing against the mattress once more as he picked up the pace. Their position made it difficult to push deeper, but he still managed to sink to the hilt with each rut of his hips.

Laurent came with a gasp, and Damen’s body took it as a cue to finally allow himself his blessed release. He didn’t even have time to warn Laurent before he was spilling inside him, not and needy. Damen rolled them both over without even realizing it, getting Laurent on his belly so he could properly milk himself of his release without being too forceful.

He was still panting when he finally came down, muttering an apology as he moved back down onto the bed, guiding Laurent to be on his side again.

“I felt as if I hadn’t taken you since I arrived,” he purred into Laurent’s neck. “Forgive my quickness."

* * *

Laurent let out a small strangled noise of pleasure when Damen flipped him for that one moment, burying himself in deeper as he ground out the rest of his release into Laurent’s body. It happened to be a lot of stimulation at once, and Laurent could not help but bury his face into the covers and push himself back against Damen’s rutting, chasing everything that could be given.

He almost ended up with a mouthful of fur as he panted out such vulgar Veretian words, his spent cock grinding against the bed, leaving his mouth hanging wide open as he just took and took, but he managed to only catch a few pieces. He didn’t even get to see to it until Damen slowed, let Laurent have his body back, let him /think/.

He pulled a strand or so of fur from his tongue before letting his arm fall weak to the mattress, rolling with Damen as he was moved back to his side.

And not a second later, Laurent made a sound very close to a “blagh,” as he pulled his hand away, having so thoughtfully used the hand he’d just jerked himself with to remove the fur from his mouth. It was not his most calculated move, and he couldn’t help but break into soft laughter immediately after, his weight leaning heavily back on Damen as he all but actually giggled.

He held his hand aloft as he turned his head to Damen, still smiling in a post-coital haze, every once in a while spilling into a sound that was far from appropriate anywhere but the bedroom.

“Forgive my humour,” he said to his betrothed, wiping his hand on the bed with another breathy laugh. And then his laugh drew out into a moan as another little wave of his orgasm hit him. His toes even curled.

* * *

Damen was too blissed out to notice much of Laurent’s predicament, though he did smile when he heard Laurent laugh. That mouth could say such dirty things, then spill out laughter the next moment. Damen enjoyed it very much, and held Laurent closer just to hear it better.

Aftershocks continued to roll through him, and Damen hummed his approval at each one. He could feel Laurent’s too, especially when he tightened around his softening cock. he pressed kissed to the ravaged skin of Laurent’s neck, keeping him close and trying his best not to think about how tomorrow night he would be without this.

“I love your humor,” Damen murmured, nuzzling into Laurent’s hair. God, he loved those soft sounds of pleasure. “And your noises,” he added.

It wasn’t long before Damen finally pulled out and invited Laurent to face him so they could properly kiss. Damen quietly slipped his tongue past Laurent’s lips, drawing him closer with each subsiding wave of pleasure, open-mouthed and sloppy.

HIs chest twinged just thinking about how much he would miss this.

* * *

Laurent tangled himself completely up in Damen, and though he knew he would be without this tomorrow, he did not dread it so much. At least, he did not allow himself to dwell on it. It was a necessity, Damen’s leaving, and though Laurent wished he could fast forward to the tie where they were living together, ruling together at their palace in Marlas, they were not quite there yet. He just had to be patient, and he had been that before. It was not often he worked on someone else’s schedule, but he had to understand that was part of sharing his life with someone else.

“You love me,” Laurent said outright for Damen, fingers playing at his beloved’s jaw from where Laurent’s arms were pinned between their bodies. “You can just say it. You are completely sodden with love for me, and you could never navigate it, and you shall forever be cursed with your feelings.” He kissed Damen’s nose, his cheeks, his forehead.

“And I, of course, love you more than I entirely know how to convey, but will master sooner than you can imagine.”

More kisses accompanied little forward surges, Laurent’s body pressed flush with Damen’s. It was a little too warm, and Laurent could tell he was terrible flushed, but he did not care. He did not rise to grab a towel - Damen had already broken him of that habit. Perhaps to his detriment, for Laurent had very much become something of a sloth after lovemaking. He had already learned that lovemaking was not only a pragmatic task, and he hoped he at least showed that to Damen now.

* * *

Damen chuckled at Laurent’s words, very much enamored. He /was/ sodden with love, and there was no way his feelings would ever change. He would enjoy the rest of his life so long as Laurent was in it, curled in bed beside him each night and waking with him in the morning. They would have their heirs and plenty of practice in making them before they reached the point where it would be decided who would father a child. Damen suspected it would be him, as Laurent had said more than once that he wanted his bloodline gone.

They shared more kisses, bodies pressed to each other wherever they could touch. The cold of winter was far from them now, Damen’s blood pleasantly warmed as he tasted and touched.

“I cannot wait,” he murmured in reply. “And I will just say it: I love you.” There was a time not long ago that he wasn’t so sure, a time where he had thought Laurent had replaced him with a duke from his childhood. that wound would take time to close, but his love was stronger than ever.

His kisses moved toward something more passionate after that, his hands roaming down Laurent’s back and up his thighs, lost in the warmth, the soft noises, the…

Without meaning to, Damen softened a kiss, then his jaw went slack altogether.

Sleep didn’t care how many hours he had left with his beloved, nor how much Damen wanted that second time in bed.

* * *

Laurent had suspected they were about to fall into a soft bout of intimacy, all slow and soft - thought they would be drawing out their evening in slow thrusts and quiet moans, but that certainly did not end up being the case.

He was still kissing Damen in tender reply right up until the moment the kisses just stopped and Laurent realised what had happened. His fingers were still rested on Damen’s jaw when it went slack.

Laurent pulled his head back, stated straight into Damen’s sleeping face.

Damen has been nonstop all day - training, stressing, planning, /fixing/. Since they’d left the bed, he’s been emotionally pulled about, so it made sense he would fall asleep now, and Laurent certainly could not hold it against him.

He had wanted hours more, and he would lament those which he had lost, but Damen needed this rest. Laurent could assume it would be the last he received in a good while. Laurent could respect that it was for the best that Damen slept.

With a soft touch to Damen’s chin, Laurent helped his betrothed close his mouth so as to save their fur from drool at the very least. Damen would have almost looked like he was pouting had he been conscious and not completely relaxed in every other part of his body.

Laurent kissed Damen’s nose before slinking from the bed, going for a quick clean in the wash basin so he could at least give himself a chance of sleeping.

He worried about Damen, about what these quakes in the Earth meant for him. They were a problem Laurent could not imagine solving, especially whilst planning an entire union like theirs.

It would be in Damen’s best interest to send for Laurent sooner rather than later.

Laurent made his way back into Damen’s arm, nearly gawking at just how warm his beloved’s body was compared to the winter air just outside the bubble of their bed, and even then, he mindfully pulled a thin cover over them. The sweat would cool; they would need the sheet in time.

“I love you, too,” Laurent whispered as he found a spot against Damen, tucked under his chin and huddled close, the closest position to ‘clinging’ Laurent would ever get.

Soon, he would have this for life - the solid mass of his beautiful husband-to-be at his side, warm and welcome, the pinnacle of /home/. Laurent would be strong, would give the time he desired for the time Damen needed. Especially if it meant the next time they saw each other would be for a lifetime. Laurent needed Damen for a lifetime.

He needed Damen until morning at the very least.

So he found his comfortable place and huddled in, and after a few soft kisses to Damen’s chest, Laurent relaxed, though it was not even clear to him whether or not he actually allowed sleep to take him.

* * *

Damen slept so heavily he could hardly register what was real and what was dream. Images floated in and out of his head: snowstorms, sandy beaches, ocean spray. Laurent’s arms around his neck, the weight of him against his chest.

When he woke, it was dark. The room was bathed in dark orange of the low light of the braziers. Laurent was tucked into his chest, fitted against him so snugly he couldn’t hope to move. He blinked several times, trying to remember why he was here, how he had gotten here. He remembered dinner, the announcement, coming back to the room, making love to—

Shit.

“I fell asleep!” Damen hissed suddenly, then flinched at how loud he had been. With only precious hours left, he had fallen asleep! While kissing Laurent no less.

He sighed, bundling Laurent closer to him in the dark. He pressed a kiss to his hair, trying to capture this moment of quiet, Laurent breathing against his skin.

And he’d wasted hours of it.

* * *

Laurent must have fallen asleep as well at some point, for Damen’s hiss woke him with the slightest jolt. A hiss in the morning, and he had to expect a warning, danger, something similar to that, but when he opened his eyes and Damen had begun to settle again, it slowly all registered into his mind.

“You fell asleep,” Laurent confirmed in a thick voice without moving much more. His lids were heavy, his body a comfortable weight on the bed. “Now go back to sleep,” Laurent went on, clearly not at all truly awake himself. “I’still dark out.”

He rested back against Damen comfortably, nuzzled him softly asks that might persuade him to relax and rest again—

But Laurent’s mind had begun to resist the sleep now, as the same thoughts Damen had had upon waking flooded back in.

“Six hours with that boy,” Laurent murmured with a deep chuckle, his mouth barely awake enough to catch up to his wit. “Twenty minutes with me. I should be honoured.”

* * *

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Damen murmured, adjusting himself so that Laurent could move more comfortably against him. It was a delicate balance to maintain the heat built between them, though Damen didn’t feel in danger of cold. Maybe he had gotten used to the Veretian weather after all.

Damen croaked out a laugh. “So we are comparing a summer tryst from my youth with making love to my betrothed in the dead of winter after a day of dealing with crises in both of our kingdoms? Mm. How fair,” he teased, his eyes still closed as he tugged Laurent closer.

He knew he should wake up, that he should force himself to wake up and experience these moments with Laurent, but his eyes simply wouldn’t open. Instead he nuzzled in closer, pressing sleepy kisses to Laurent’s hair.

“Twenty minutes with you is better than six hours with anyone else,” he added after a moment. It was true.

* * *

“How exhausting I must be,” Laurent murmured with a fleeting, lazy smile, for as he felt Damen relax, he started to do so as well, and that did not bode for these hours they had left. But when would Laurent have the opportunity to sleep so well again? Surely not before their union. His worry for Damen paired with his worry for Akielos would only be matched by his anxious waiting for this union. They both should test while they could. Together, while they could.

And Laurent did.

When his eyes opened again, it was to the shuffling of feet just past their bed and out closer to the sitting area. An Akielon servant - who Laurent had not seen at /all/ in Damen’s stay - was carefully and quietly packing Damen’s things. By the looks of it, he’d been doing it for some time.

Nikandros must have sent the boy.

The boy did not even realise he’d awoken the kings as he quietly carried out another trunk, and Laurent had to assume someone had been at the door waiting for him, for he only heard it close.

They were taking Damen away from him before he’d even woken.

Laurent adjusted the thin blanket over their bodies and kissed Damen’s collarbone to wake him. They should at least have a few moments together before they were parted again.

* * *

Damen didn’t try to wake. Laurent nestled against him and he dropped off into sleep soon after, comforted by the scent of Laurent’s hair and all of his perfumes, accented nicely with the faint smell of sex. In the back of his mind, he knew that this would be his last good sleep for some time, and that tomorrow would bring grief and pain for his people and he lives lost and destroyed by earthquakes.

But now he had Laurent.

When he woke, it was to Laurent mouthing his skin. He grunted softly, burrowing his head into the pillow to chase his dream of Ios in summer. Instead he was in Arles and had a day’s ride in the cold and snow.

“Must we wake?” he croaked, trailing a finger down Laurent’s spine. “Perhaps you could make it worth my while.” He smiled sleepily, still not opening his eyes.

Opening his eyes meant he would have to face leaving his betrothed, and he wasn’t sure he could. Not when the day started so peacefully, so lovingly.

* * *

Laurent absently chased Damen’s touch, his back arching into Damen’s fingertips just enough to be noticeable.

“Do not tempt me with the idea of you missing your travel party,” Laurent murmured, tugging the blanket comfortably over both of them. “I would let you sleep until the evening again, render travel impossible another day.”

Laurent could lie in bed all day with Damen, and they both knew it.  
Laurent would just never say it out loud.

The door creaked open again and, with his eyes still closed, Laurent listened as yet another crate creaked with strain as it was lifted, the shuffling footsteps as it was carried out.

Damen had to leave. He had a responsibility to Akielos, just as Laurent had the same responsibility to help Damen uphold it.

“Nikandros will be in here next to drag you out of my arms,” Laurent murmured, and where he was lazily jesting, Laurent did not doubt it to be the truth. It was a miracle he hadn’t already.

* * *

Damen peered out of the covers to see who was entering their room, frowning when he noticed that all of his belongings had already been taken out except for one final chest. He dropped his head back to the pillow and sighed, not wanting to move but knowing he had to.

A few of his curls flopped into his eyes as he sat up on his elbow and he shook his head to get them out of his vision. Arles would never be home to him, but he would miss it and the many memories created within these walls.

“I would only be right to be fucking you when he comes to fetch me,” Damen teased, rolling so that he was on top of Laurent, covering his face and neck with kisses.

“Please don’t.”

Damen froze for a moment, then started laughing against Laurent’s neck as he heard Nikandros’s voice from the doorway. “You have horrible timing,” he called, cheeks flushing slightly—he wasn’t embarrassed though. Not truly.

“I have your clothes for the day,” Nikandros continued as he set a pile of clothing and boots on a chair. “I would like to be outside in ten minutes, if you wish to stay on time, Exalted.”

Damen let out a close-lipped groan. “Yes, fine. Leave us until then.”

Nikandros didn’t hesitate to turn on his heel and get out.

Damen met Laurent’s lips for a kiss then, slow and passionate. “if you wear a robe to see me off, I could have you once more before we leave,” he offered, smiling. he brought a hand to Laurent’s face, thumbing at his cheek. “But I understand if that makes things harder for you."

* * *

Laurent had quite been enjoying the kiss before Nikandros interrupted them so boldly. Yes, he was charged to the care of the king, but this was not his king’s chambers. Not yet, anyway. It was bold for Nikandros to send attendants inside when Laurent was still to be considered sleeping, even bolder for him to enter himself!

But Laurent just laid back with a roll of his eyes as Nikandros addressed Damen, eyes fixed cold on the intruder, though his expression did not suggest malice or anger. If anything, Laurent wore a small smirk at Nikandros having found them this way. Laurent even went so far as to slither protective and possessive arms around Damen as they spoke, just to pluck at whatever nerve Nik had exposed to him.

“There is nothing I can put on in ten minutes,” Laurent murmured, disapproving of Nikandros’ horrible planning. “Am I to bid him farewell in the nude?”

But he did not expect an actual response - nor could anyone expect him to attend a farewell such as this one in a robe.  
Many Veretians would be party to Damen’s departure. Even a chiton would be too scandalous for the event.

“You will not be leaving in ten minutes,” Laurent told Damen outright when the kiss broke, his arms still around Damen, physically holding him in so he could not /try/ to leave until Laurent gave the consent. “But I cannot risk you falling asleep on me again,” he teased softly with a kiss.

Laurent knew he could not force Damen to stay longer than he had already. As much as he wanted Damen at his side for eternity, he had to pay his due, had to let Damen see to his kingdom first. Sacrifice and all that.

“You would not want all of Vere to see me in a robe anyway,” Laurent said as he freed Damen from his hold.

* * *

Damen let out a hum of approval. “As you wish, Your Majesty,” he teased, and it turned to a laugh at Laurent’s comment. “I suppose I wouldn’t no.” He met the kiss happily, and for a moment leaving didn’t seem so bad. He felt he could go with Laurent’s blessing, and this time he knew exactly when he would see him again even if everything went wrong.

With several more kisses, Damen finally parted from Laurent, though he kissed all the down to his navel on his way off of the mattress. Nikandros had chosen a fine outfit for him, one that would do well in the cold but would also allow him to move well on his horse.

He noted that it was also dyed in muted colors, designed to keep him hidden in the snowy banks and rock they would be traversing.

“It appears I will have to save my finer outfits for our union,” he said, turning to Laurent to have his help in fastening the shoulder piece of his chiton—any excuse for Laurent to touch him.

“You must be safe when you travel,” he warned quietly. “Keep your guard close, no matter how safe it feels. People sometimes act strangely when these events happen, they can be unpredictable."

* * *

Rising from the bed took more effort than Laurent would admit, especially when Damen’s kisses had led his body to hope for more attention, but alas, they hadn’t the time.

He watched Damen dress from the edge of the bed, sat and ready to help as needed. Laurent was, in fact, waffling - slowing Damen’s departure by not starting to dress himself, but it would only be a few moments more. He could justify /that/ at the very least.

Laurent ran his hand down Damen’s clothed hip and thigh before standing with a little huff of air and moving to his own clothing options for the day.

They had to start sooner or later.

“I made it just fine across the country last time I travelled,” Laurent reminded Damen, though you be perfectly fair, he’d only ever travelled the length of Marlas to Vere and back on his own. He’d not been to Akielos since his last trip with Damen, but even then, they’d been at war, of sorts, and he’d made it with only light bruising and slightly less-light stab wounds.

“I am not the one to worry about,” Laurent tried again, tying the laces of his pants. “Worry for Akielos. I will make it across easily enough.

* * *

“You still must be careful,” Damen said as he finished tying his boots. What Laurent’s needed so many ties was still a mystery to him, though he supposed it did look fashionable. Damen stood for a moment simply watching Laurent as he tied his pants, the muscle in his shoulders and back, always so hidden by the severe lines of his outfit. His androgynous qualities were fading with each year, and before long Lauren would be the shining king of their new country, a king happier than the one who stood before him now.

“Travel quickly,” he added as he strode over to help Laurent tie his jacket. “There is no way to predict the quakes. Usually nothing comes of them, but if the ground begins to shake and you’re indoors, you must flee outside or the building may collapse with you inside it.”

He framed Laurent’s face in his hands for a moment, looking down at him through his lashes. “Sleep in a tent while you are coming to me. Promise me you will, or I will spend every night worrying myself into illness.”

He met Laurent’s lips for a kiss before he could answer, already missing him though he was right there. They needed more time. They always needed more time.

* * *

“Buildings /collapse/?” Laurent asked, pulling his attention away from his laces—

Just in time to be met with a kiss from Damen.

Laurent blinked, still very much processing this whole quake things still. He understood it, knew the fundamentals of it all now, but again, he had never experienced the ground shaking so violently as to collapse buildings. It was all still very new to him.

He would sleep in a tent.

“You will be lucky if I stop to sleep,” Laurent landed on, now fully dressed in a way that made him look like he was ready to say goodbye, even though he very much was not. “I will arrive in Ios, falling from my horse again, and you will be forced to watch me sleep for a full day straight. And you will let me sleep, Damianos.”

He kept his arms around Damen’s neck, kept him close and held him there. He forgot how quickly Damen could dress him, how deftly his fingers worked.

“And then, we will be wed,” Laurent smiled softly, nosing at Damen’s cheek sweetly before following it up with a little kiss to the same spot.

He wasn’t ready to let Damen go.

* * *

“Please sleep,” Damen sighed, leaning his head against Laurent’s. “You cannot arrive in Ios half dead. You must impress the people, not make them fear for your life before we are even married.” He wrapped his arms around Laurent’s midsection, swaying gently with him as the reality of the situation set in. He didn’t want to leave either.

“I will miss you terribly,” he said into Laurent’s shoulder. He squeezed him a little tighter, then pulled back just enough to find his lips for a kiss.

“I will say it many more times before we part, but I love you,” Damen said quietly. He kissed him again, softer and sweeter. “We should go, before Nikandros falls ill from stress before we can even depart.”

He pulled back further, talking Laurent’s hands and giving them a squeeze. He didn’t want to leave, but he did have to tend to his country.

“Shall we?” He couldn’t even say the word “go,” because he didn’t think he could stomach it.

* * *

They had to.

Laurent held Damen’s hand as they departed from their rooms. It did not go unnoticed by Laurent that this might be Damen’s last time here in Arles - perhaps even by design. The palace held much anguish for them - fear and pain, bad memories and terrible starts. They’d made a few good along the way, but even then, Laurent would not blame Damen if he never wanted to return.

Goodbyes always felt so permanent for Laurent, and he was certain Damen felt a similar way. Having both lost their mothers, their fathers, and their brothers, Laurent could imagine Damen had similar worries to his own, even on shorter times apart.

“You will see my letter is given to Korus?” Laurent asked, his mind already racing with the thousands of topics they should he discussed last night. “And you will write me about Ios, yes? About what to expect when I arrive, if I am better suited in your attire or that of Vere? We have not even discussed my arrival. We haven’t discussed—“

They hadn’t discussed Fynn.

Neither of them had said a word about Fynn, and Laurent even might have forgotten had it not just nearly came rolling off his tongue in a flurry of thick Veretian.

* * *

“I will see that Korus gets your letter,” Damen assured. “I will hand it to him myself, my love.” It always brought a smile to his face to hear Laurent when he was nervous, though he didn’t like that nervousness brought out these constant questions. Damen should have stayed up the night before so they could properly discuss…but he knew they simply would have made love several more times instead.

“I can already tell you that Akielon attire will be more comfortable, but I think you should arrive in Veretian,” he continued, thumbing over the side of Laurent’s palm as they walked. “I will include everything you should know in my letter, and I will have my advisors hold a special session to ensure your arrival is a success. You needn’t worry.”

Damen kissed his cheek before they stepped out into the main courtyard, where a group of Akielons mingled with Veretians. All turned and bowed at the entrance of the kinds, but Damen was making a sour face, displeased by the biting cold.

Nikri stood at the ready, nibbling at the bridle of Nikandros’s fuzzy steed. Nikandros held both horses, looking impatient, but he nodded to Laurent. “Thank you for providing me a horse, and for your hospitality.”

“So you can be kind to my betrothed,” Damen teased, unlacing their fingers only to put his arm around Laurent, holding him as close as he could.

Fynn watched from a distance, thinking it best not to interrupt, but following protocol in attending the departure of royalty, Nikandros had already sent him withering glares at his current distance, so he moved no closer.

Damen kissed Laurent’s temple, trying his best to stall. “Is there anything else I need to answer before I depart?” he asked. “Will you promise to stay safe while I’m away?"

* * *

“You were a welcomed guest,” Laurent told Nikandros from the warmth of Damen’s chest. He’d been pulled /quite/ close, but if he minded it, it did not show. Laurent’s arm has wrapped around Damen’s middle, there, in front if everyone, holding him close.

And it was uncomfortable, and Laurent usually would make this goodbye as emotionally suffocated as it could be, but he managed to show the mannerisms of a lover. They had spoken of political marriages in the past week, and Laurent hoped to one day show all their people that that was not all that this was.

But as much as he loved Damen, would love to hold him there and never let him go, Laurent took a step away. He made his way to Nikri, held out his hand and let the mount nose at it.

“I will be safe,” he promised Damen, his attention on Nikri’s muzzle, distracting himself from a goodbye he did not want to give. “And I will be true, Damianos.”

It needed to be said. It covered more than they had the time to speak of, but everything they needed to address.

“I will be by your side in Ios soon enough, and we will see to rebuilding what Akielos has lost before the union of Akielos and Vere is solidified.”

Laurent turned from the horse, looked up to meet Damen’s eyes and asked, “Too formal?”

* * *

Of course, Laurent had to part from him eventually. Damen loathed the cold that snuck in in his place the moment Laurent was gone from his side. He took a moment to look out in the crowd, the Akielons who were saying goodbye to Veretians as though parting from friends. Come to think of it, they probably /were/ friends.

Laurent’s admission to being true startled him, and Damen almost flushed, uncomfortable that Laurent even had to say such a thing. But it reminded him that Fynn was still here, somewhere among this crowd, a man defeated. Damen knew full well that defeat made men do foolish things.

“A bit," he finally answered, but he was smiling. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Laurent’s lips, soft and sweet. “I will blame that on the Veretian in you.”

He didn’t want to go, but he was admittedly drawn to the energy of the crowd, the expectation that he did have to leave at some point. He couldn’t stay here forever.

He looked down at Laurent, so regal and kingly in his outfit, his cheeks slightly pink from the cold. He looked very different from the men who had curled into his chest the night before, his mask back and firmly on.

“I am going to miss you with everything I have,” Damen said quietly, and he reluctantly took the reins from Nikandros. “Would you like me to leave some of my men?” he asked carefully, trying to read Laurent’s expression. It may be useful to have a guide back to Ios.”

More so, an extra pair of Akielon eyes watching Fynn.

* * *

Laurent had only given the crowd his attention the moment they stepped out, when he had no choice but to see them all out there. He knew, just beyond the gates to the palace, the rest of Arles would be waiting, chattering, hoping for their glimpse into the royal happenings within the palace.

He had not been able to pick out familiar faces in that time, but he could be sure that, somewhere in the throng within Arles, would be Jord saying his farewells to the men he had been required to work so closely with. Laurent wondered if he would have Lucien by his side, if any of the Akielon men would be unkind to him after what had happened. Pallas and Lazar had probably snuck off somewhere to say their inappropriate goodbyes.

These men had gone to war together, had all fought alongside both Akielos and Vere despite the history they shared. Laurent had no doubts there were men out there clapping the back of another they’d fought in Marlas not even a decade ago.

It was /their/ impact; Damen and Laurent’s together. Yes, there would be those who opposed it, but safe within the walls of Arles, they had just a glimpse of what the Artesian empire could look like.

Yet, Laurent only had his eyes on Damen.

“If there is such a man that would surrender his chance to go home,” Laurent said, not arguing with the idea. He knew why it had been offered, but he did not confront Damen on it. Not now. Laurent had nothing to hide. “I suppose you will not be that man?”

Laurent knew Damen would not be that man.

* * *

Damen had to shake his head. Home called for him just as much as Laurent did when he was gone. He needed to tend to his people, to be in Akielos. He had had quite enough of dreary cold and snow, and had much more of it to face before he found warmth again.

“I know one man,” he said. He looked up, searching the crowd for Crassus. He didn’t spot him. “I will have Pallas stay, and he can ride with you on your journey to Ios. He knows the terrain better than most in my camp by now.” Pallas would be beyond pleased, even if he probably wanted to return to the beaches of Akielos himself.

“Nikandros,” Damen called. “Will you find Crassus and tell him to—“

“Yes, I can hear you,” Nikandros muttered as he trotted his horse off into the crowd.

It was time.

Damen looped the reins around the crook of his arm before pulling Laurent in for an embrace, squeezing him tightly. He turned his head, pressing a few soft kisses to his cheek and temple. “I love you so much,” he said, again. “I cannot wait to marry you."

* * *

Pallas.

Lazar would be pleased.

“You want me safe, yet you distract one of my best men,” Laurent remarked, watching as Nikandros rode off into the crowd. Lazar would be at Pallas’ side, would hear the news as Pallas did. Laurent supposed he could have been left with a worse chaperone. At least Pallas did not have insurmountable disdain towards the Veretian king - just the usual amount.

“Really, Damianos, I—“

But then Damen has him, swept up against him where Laurent could tuck his face into Damen’s shoulder before the kissing began.

When he saw Damen next, his skin will have browned from the sun, his skin would once more smell of the ocean, of Akielon oils, of sweat. He would be his true Akielon self again. Laurent hated that he had to give up his time with Damen to allow him to be that, but such was the nature of their arrangement.

“Travel safe,” Laurent told Damen, and he kissed him in that pattern Laurent had slowly begun to set in. “We will be together again soon enough.”

* * *

Damen thumbed Laurent's cheekbone as he received his kisses, his heart twisting up in his chest. God, he would miss this. Once Laurent was done, he leaned in for one more kiss, desperate but fleeing. He knew there were eyes on them and he didn’t want Laurent feeling self-conscious.

When he broke the kiss, he had to look away and mount his horse to keep from getting emotional. This wasn’t going to be easy for him in the slightest, and he doubted it would be easy for Laurent either, though he would mask it better.

“I love you,” he said one final time.

Nikandros appeared again, and looked relieved to see that Damen was finally in the saddle.

“I will see you soon,” Damen said with a bow of his head. “Until then, my love.”

He dug his heels into Nikri, who all too happily trotted forward, eager to go on a ride. The crowd roared, Akielons and Veretians alike cheering him on as he rode to the front of the caravan. He told himself not to look back at Laurent, but he did anyway, offering a wave to him.

“Come on,” Nikandros said but it was fond. “You will see him soon enough. I promise you will survive until that day."

* * *

“Leave me to bemoan your departure,” Laurent told Damen with a smile, motioning to Nikri. “I cannot be in Ios until you are there, and you’ll not even leave.”

Laurent found it in himself to be as...supportive as he could be in this. He kept his usual facade up - the strength of it anyway. He did not try to mask any fondness he had for Damen - even held up his smile and gave an equally ungainly wave at Damen’s departing.

He hid his nerves - something he’d not truly not noticed he’d had in him until Damen mounted Nikri, turned his back to Laurent. Laurent could not be certain what Damen was actually riding into, did not know enough about Akielos in a time of need to even guess at what Damen might be headed towards.

Not to mention the fact that Damen had dropped that little apprehension in Laurent’s ear about how people might retaliate against this union.

And now Damen was cresting the extent of Laurent’s vision through the crowd, and Laurent was left plagued with the knowledge that Damen was absolutely /terrible/ at getting himself out of trouble alone.

Laurent turned on his heel and headed back into the palace before he could ruminate on it all for too long, leaving the crowd outside just as unsatisfied as anyone who tried to catch a glimpse into his personal life. His heart ached and he would not allow them to see any more than they already had. These were private matters, no matter what anyone thought would make the Veretian King more likeable.


	8. Chapter 8

It didn’t take long for Damen to be exhausted. The ride alone was draining, but arriving at the site of the earthquake was even more taxing. People were angry, devastated, and mourning their dead. Damen visited families, attended funerals, and oversaw the distribution of food and rebuilding projects. He scarcely had time to sleep, and the aftershocks continued every day or so. None were too bad, but everyone was spooked each time they occurred.

Men of science arrived from Ios, trying to explain the phenomenon. There was little by way of historical data to go off of, which didn’t make it any easy to comfort the people. But they did appreciate their king’s presence.

_Laurent,_

_I have not yet traveled to Ios, so you will have to wait a bit longer. But that means this letter will reach you in two days’ time. I am trying my best to help here, but it is difficult to solve a problem we cannot predict._

_I think of you each night as I sleep here in my tent alone. Nikandros rolls his eyes at me every morning, he says I look miserable. It does not help that I sleep on the ground._

_Perhaps you could smear some of that Veretian oil on your next letter? I can only catch the scent of your apartments if I bury my face into by trunk, which looks as foolish as it feels. But it is worth it._

_I love you. That, and I can’t wait to strip off all of those layers and fuck you when I see you next._

_Expect a letter soon._

_Yours._

He signed with his signet and made it seem as though the letter was of importance when he sent it off with his messenger, then emerged from his tent to begin another day of provide some sort of guidance to a city in shambles.

* * *

One night without Damen was difficult. Two could be considered quite enough. Three was too many.

The first night of Damen’s absence, Laurent had fully prepared himself for his trip to Ios. He’d prepped documents, parchment, and books. He’d chosen pieces of Arles to bring with him to Ios, then ultimately to Marlas. He wrote letters - one to Charls to give his most recent measurements, another to Chelaut (who oversaw the ports) to have him begin preparations for travel for the union. The third letter went to Nikandros to preemptively thank him for the care Laurent knew he would take of Damen, and the fourth went to Damen. Laurent would not let him down as he has last time with his lack of correspondence.

_Darling,_

_You’ve cursed me. For years, I have been accustomed to the weather in Vere, but your absence has reminded me how cold it can truly be here. The bed is no longer warm on your side, and I truthfully sleep quite fitfully without your absolute giant furnace of a body at my side._

_I hope you are safe. I could not help but think of what you said about reactions to our union when you left. Where your luck has been impeccable up to this point, I cannot comprehend how you could make it out of any tussle without me by your side. We are two halves of an unstoppable force, and I do feel the cracks without you here._

_I’ve enclosed a phial of perfumes. Sentiment is not terribly foreign to me now, and I imagine it will be something you ask for. You are the most sentimental oaf I know._

_Listen to Nikandros, and send for me soon. I am listless without you._

_I miss you terribly._

_And I am sure there could not be a worse time to tell you this, but I very much desire you right now._

_How unfortunate._

_Yours._

Laurent sent the letters off in a bundle, certain his would cross paths with Damen’s along the way. Laurent could hope for it, and most of all, he could hope it was the letter that would summon him to Ios.

He wasn’t surprised when it wasn’t.

But he focused himself, buried himself in his work, and one night, when he was much too tired to force himself to work any longer, Laurent experimented with the idea of touching himself.

He had the desire to do so, having thought about seeing Damen again and how we would take Laurent into his large arms, lift him off the ground maybe - how Damen would shower him with kisses, and then they would find the first place they could in some semblance of privacy, and he would have Damen inside of him again. They would be skin to skin, panting in their pleasure—

But Laurent’s hand fell away far before completion, moved to his stomach and just lay there while his interest waned.

He was not /so/ desperate.

* * *

Damen had half expected to wait another week for a letter from Laurent, but instead one arrived the day after he’d sent his along. He laughed outright when he read it, warmed that they had both had the same thought about the Veretian perfumes. The letter was also intimate, touching—words seldom used to describe the man he was going to marry.

And Damen, for his part, /was/ that desperate. He took himself in hand almost every night, though his fist could never give him the same tightness as Laurent’s body. But pleasure was pleasure, and he found that if he caught scent of that perfume, it was much easier to find release. Even so, pleasuring himself made him restless, antsy for real sex. he wanted his hands on Laurent’s hips, sliding up his back as he rutted freely—

And then had to sober himself to the reality that Laurent was far away.

It took several more days, but things finally came under control in the affected cities, and Damen felt comfortable leaving cleanup to the Kyros, Hyman. Several of his men stayed behind to help, and Damen sent off a letter the moment he made the decision.

_We ride to Ios at dawn. Do hurry, I feel like an adolescent rutting against my pillows. I will take you apart with my mouth when I find you without eyes on us (and perhaps even if there are)—if you hurry, you may catch us on the road._

_However, be safe, Laurent. Arrive in one piece._

_I ache for you._

He sealed his letter and sent it off, and Nikandros laughed at him for being such a whore.

“You need a pet that looks like him,” he chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this worked up since your father forbade you from fuckng after you tried to bed that virgin royal—what was her name? I thought you would try to mount /me./"

“Oh shut up,” Damen muttered.

“I honestly feel bad for your king,” Nikandros continued, sharpening his knife by the fire. “You may split him in two when—“

“Enough,” he snapped, but it had no head.

Nikandros chuckled, but said no more on the topic.

* * *

It took too long for the call to travel to arrive.

Laurent had passed the point of patience on day three, and was then made to wait eight more before the letter finally arrived. He opened it in quite a hurry, right there in the middle of court. They’d been discussing matters of the wedding, of traditions and expectations. Jeurre had just been reciting the vows of the king when the herald had entered, letter in hand, having been told to deliver it posthaste.

Laurent stood you meet him halfway.

“Your majesty,” Mathe spoke up, as if he might be able to actually persuade Laurent to do anything he asked. “This is a very important discussion—“

Laurent strode back to his throne, face all but directly against the parchment of the letter. It was, perhaps, not exactly what he’d been expecting, but he took no effort to hide the message Damen had left him. Laurent was, however, mindful enough not to bite his lip, as was his first instinct upon reading what Damen had scrawled for him.

“—we only think there should be a /discussion/ on the ramifications of our /king/ being seen as inferior to /another/—“ Mathe continued tersely, hoping for anything from Laurent. If anyone on the council was on his side, they did not speak up, recognising when their king was unreachable. Even in a good mood, Laurent was to be feared. Every Veretian knew not to trust even his warmest gazes.

“How absolutely noble of you to worry about that, councillor,” Laurent dismissed dryly, tucking the letter away, but he did not take his seat. “We shall discuss it, if I’ve the care, on the road to Ios. We leave in the morning.”

And that was all the discussion on it.

Laurent was as close to giddy as he could ever be perceived, as he made his way back to his apartments. With one statement, he’d sent all of Arles into preparation, though being ruled under Laurent, most of those expected to travel had been prepared for days now. Laurent would have left then and there had he not a few final things to straighten out. He would need to collect a few personal items, would need to properly wrap his books in leathers so the snow did not dampen them, would need to—

Laurent stopped abruptly in the hallway that led to his room, standing stock still in front of the door to the guest chambers, and he cursed silently to himself in Veretian.

Some friend he was...

He had seen Fynn in the last few days, and they had shared minor words, but with council and preparations, Laurent and Fynn had not shared much time together. There were other reasons for that, of course, but Laurent could genuinely weigh it on having been alone for so long, on having no friends in his life to keep up with—

And, of course, to the watchful eyes on him every moment Damen had been gone.

Those eyes were missing now, as Laurent had been scheduled to be in court for some time yet.

He took advantage of the situation.

He stepped up to the guest chambers and knocked on the door, giving a nod to the Kemptian guard on his right who bowed low to the King’s approach.

* * *

Fynn had heard the announcement that Laurent was going to head to Ios, and had instructed his men to prepare their things to depart for Kempt. Without Laurent, he had no reason to stay, and already felt like he was on thin ice as it was. Damen’s appointed chaperone—Pallas—clearly disliked him. But there wasn’t much to dislike, because Laurent had barely spoken to him since Damen’s departure.

Secretly, Fynn was glad for it. He had thought that perhaps Laurent would cling to him, the man he held the most affection for who wasn’t Damianos. He had worried about reversing all of the work they had done to fix what had happened.

So he was surprised to see Laurent at his door, especially when he was supposed to be in court for some hours yet. Fynn bowed low in greeting, then stepped aside to allow Laurent entry.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Your Majesty?” he asked once the door was shut. He stood as far away as he could without being distant, well aware that they were truly in private company. “If this is to tell me about your departure, I have been informed. My camp will be leaving shortly after you.”

He brushed his hands down his shirt, trying to flatten the wrinkles. His hair was a mess, slightly damp from the baths, and he realized with sudden embarrassment that his pants were not even fully laced.

“You will have to excuse my appearance—clearly I was not expecting company.”

Where the hell is Pallas?

* * *

Fynn had chosen to be almost infuriatingly formal. It was truly that very moment that Laurent realised that friendships were not just givens - that they were something to be focused on, something that needed care and attention. He’d not seen Fynn much in days, and where Laurent believed he could just walk in here and return to how things had been, that clearly wasn’t the case.

Fynn addressed him properly, bowed for him even. It would have made sense were they still in the hall, but this was a private place.

Laurent did his best to break the ice that had formed back between them.

“I always excuse your appearance,” Laurent responded easily, crossing one leg over the other and taking a causal stance against the wall, “Why would I stop now?”

There was a sliver of skin that showed through the lacings of Fynn’s trousers, and Laurent could just see the start of a dusting of hair at the openings lowest point, but Laurent marked his noting of that to simply being lonely.

Laurent cleared his throat, tried again.

“I suppose you won’t be attending my wedding, then?” He asked lamely, as if that were hardly an appropriate question after all they’d been through, his eyes back on Fynn’s face, where they belonged. “There’s a lovely Veretian custom following the ceremony that you could weaponise against me for years to come. You might enjoy it.”

* * *

Fynn knew the ceremony. His cheeks flushed red, and for a moment he simply floundered, trying to find /any/ words. First he had caught Laurent’s gaze drifting far too low, and now he was talking about ceremonial wedding sex, that he might /enjoy watching it./

“I haven’t been invited,” he managed to choke out, his face threatening to melt right off. This was dangerous. Laurent was lonely, and Fynn was lonely and still heartbroken. It was like lighting a match in a parching field and hoping nothing burned.

“And I think Damianos would sooner flay me than have me in the room for that custom,” he added, clearing his throat. “Really, Laurent, you should not be here. It’s late and—and there is much to do before tomorrow. Like sleep. You must rest.”

If Pallas reported this to Damianos—any of what had just been said or done—he was a dead man walking.

“My father will attend, I believe,” he rambled on, “and I am sure someone of the royal court—perhaps the Queen herself if she is up for the journey.”

He took a step back, because he /wanted/ to step forward.

* * *

“Your father?” Laurent asked, and had the light been just a bit brighter, perhaps there would have been visible disappointment on his face. His brow creased, and his head tipped just so to the side.

“You do not plan to attend.”

It wasn’t a question, but merely a statement that made absolute sense to Laurent when he actually thought about it. Not everyone could be as pragmatic as he could, could be so detached to common mannerisms of attraction and the like. Again, Laurent thought he and Fynn were over this.

It clearly was not the case.

Damen would have Akielos. He would have his Kyroi, his people who loved him like the sun. His closest friend would undoubtedly be by his side, whether said closest friend liked it or not. Perhaps it was the loneliness of days gone by without Damen, reminding Laurent of just how lonely he truly was. Perhaps it was the realisation that, when Fynn left, Laurent would have no one who chose to be by his side. Perhaps it was the strange realisation that Laurent‘s closest friend would not be at his wedding.

He’d never seen it as a problem he could have until now, until it presented itself like this. He’d never seen this as something he could miss, something he could lose.

Yet, here that was.

“I would like you to,” Laurent said quite quickly, quite boldly, filling the silence he’d created. Fynn was right to say time was short, that there was much to do, but this was very important. Laurent supposed he had just /expected/ Fynn to be there, had expected him to follow Laurent as he had up until this point. Until he’d come to his senses.

“I—“ Laurent swiped his hair from his face, held it there in a moment of thought before dragging his hand down his face. “I should have asked you. Days ago, I realise. I thought it would be apparent, but you’re departing for Kempt says...otherwise.”

* * *

Fynn frowned. He loathed seeing Laurent hurt, but yes, he had not planned to attend. It wasn’t his place, nor had he been invited. His father might take it as a personal insult, even if he would smile and pretend to be thankful that his failure of a son had secured and invitation to the wedding everyone wanted to attend.

And how could he refuse when Laurent asked him so boldly, with so much vulnerability?

“You truly thought it would be apparent?” he asked, frowning. “I nearly ruined this union. Damianos tried to kill me in the hall not five paces from where we stand. I’m going to Kempt out of respect for both of you.”

He didn’t want to be a cloud hanging over Damianos’s wedding day. He didn’t want that for Laurent, either.

“When I am wed—someday—then we will celebrate properly. But until then I am only a threat, a reminder of this painful period.” Things might have been different had Damen not been in the bedchamber that day, but then Laurent would have carried a secret, and Fynn didn’t want that.

“You know how much I care for you, Laurent,” he added softly, apologetically. “Of course I would love to be there for you, but Damianos is to be your husband—it would be an insult."

* * *

Fynn was right, to some extent, but Laurent hardly saw this as a ‘painful period.’ It had been, yes, but - so far as he was concerned - it was one they had all conquered. Much like Laurent could joke about the whole being stabbed by Govart thing, the Kingsmeet incident, his trial, the (almost) whole of his past, he could joke about what happened here. They were all in the past, and they no longer affected him - /them/. This was all new, had specifically been worked out so Laurent /could/ have a friend in Fynn, surely.

“To be entirely transparent, /I/ nearly ruined this union,” Laurent reminded Fynn, kicking off the wall and striding over to the books stacked on the desk. He made It look like a saunter, like it was a confident and definitive choice to walk deeper in the room, but he was still very much adhering to the edges - and his movement was an easy way to hide that he did still harbor guilt for what he’d done.

It only sent another pang of guilt through him when Fynn confessed to still caring.

Laurent picked a book up, began to flip through it.

It was entirely in the language of Kempt, virtually unreadable.

“You know,” Laurent started again, and it was his usual dangerous tone - cool, entirely too calm, measured. “If you want to be there, you should be there. And I could certainly use the support. Damianos himself has said people might react violently to this union, and attempts on my life are-“ Laurent looked up, recalling them all at once, and merely blinked before finishing, “- frequent.”

Laurent didn’t like that he was manipulating this in his favour, and he could not even truly process /why/ he was. All he had to do was ask, all he had to do was be vulnerable and /human/ and /ask/ Fynn to join him, but feelings were what had brought the trouble in the first place. Feelings were what could be held against him, and they had no place in this. It was all logic, and logic could be defended.

* * *

Laurent knew exactly what he was doing, Fynn knew him too well to think otherwise. The way he moved across the room, nonchalantly flipped through a book that Fynn knew he couldn’t read. He was drawing out his play, and Fynn knew before Laurent even spoke that he would fall for it. There was no denying those blue eyes or a king who wanted company.

His men would be overjoyed to go to Ios instead of the bitter cold of the north.And his father would approve of his being security for Laurent. Perhaps Damen would too, though he doubted it. Damen would no doubt expect him to have gone home, not traveled across kingdoms with his betrothed.

“As you wish,” he said with a dip of his head. “I’ll have my men prepare to leave with your caravan. I think they would much prefer warm beaches to more cold.”

And Fynn wouldn’t deny feeling safer knowing that Laurent’s safety would be under his charge. He felt he owed Auguste to get his brother to his wedding at the very least.

“I do want to go,” he said quietly. “And I doubt the Akielon people will fuss too much. If anything, they are overjoyed to see their king so happy."

* * *

Laurent would never learn.

He closed the book with a smile - one that was not just a satisfied twist of lips, but an actual bright grin, teeth and all. He was genuinely happy - the idea of having a /friend/! At his wedding! A wedding he genuinely wanted, one he was looking forward to! The fact that Fynn had agreed, had surely seen the good in it all.

Laurent would /never/ learn.

“I would ask that you limit the men who do travel with us,” Laurent did mention, and it was said so quickly that it was obvious he had not only known Fynn would bow to his wish, but that he had been planning for it all along. "At least, have some part ways and stay in Acquitart until the ceremony. Akielos is in need and I fear adding /too/ many hands and mouths now.”

Fynn was a diplomat. He would understand.

“They will all be welcomed in Marlas,” Laurent added quickly, assuring Fynn his men would be welcome. The hesitation only came in the numbers entering Akielos. “But I would keep you and who you need to be comfortable by my side, Fynn. Thank you. For being so—"

Muffled conversation sounded just outside the door and Laurent startled. People had begun to catch onto the news on eminent travel, which meant Laurent had a very fine time window to get himself out of this room. Unfortunate as it was, it was the case.

He turned his head back to Fynn from where he’d reacted to the sound with a little smile, guilty and knowing.

“Pack for the beaches,” Laurent told him in parting, going to turn to the door again—

And stopping, staring at a point just beyond Fynn.

His grin went mischievous.

“How strong are you?” Laurent asked, eyes on the window behind Fynn.

* * *

“So you want it to just be me and my personal guard,” Fynn said, not hiding his displeasure. It felt very close to treason, and he didn’t like that Laurent was speaking so nonchalantly about it when he’d been looking at his cock at the beginning of this conversation.

He also heard the people outside the room and frowned. It was time Laurent left and returned to his duties. Vere would love to spin a story of two lovers unable to see each other because Laurent was off to marry, one last tryst before they had to leave forever.

But he supposed it would be worth it all just to see Lauren smile like that—like he had when Auguste praised him when he bested him in a race. Until that grin turned devilish. Fynn cocked a brow, following Laurent’s gaze to…the window?

“Strong enough,” he said with confidence. “What are you planning?"

* * *

“I said whoever you needed to feel comfortable,” Laurent clarified, striding right past Fynn to unshutter the window and push open the panes. Laurent meant dangerously over the edge of the sill, one leg fully off the ground as he looked to his left, then up, up, up.

“Bring who you’d like,” he continued on, pushing his hair out of his face and retreating back into the safety of Fynn’s room.

He could make it.

“Would you be so kind as to let me step on you?” Laurent asked, inclining his head to the window. A glance, and it was easy enough to see what he was asking. A proper boost, and he’d be able to grab the furthest edge of his own balcony, be able to climb through his window and all around avoid confrontation and inevitable rumour spread because he hoped to stop and /talk/. Yes, it was a long fall if things went poorly, but the odds were slim, and honestly, Laurent might prefer the fall to dealing with the repercussions of being caught here.

* * *

Fynn felt like this was an even worse idea than he’d imagined, but he knew all too well what could happen if someone—Pallas—found out where Laurent had just spent his time in private company. Of course, he also risked dropping Laurent out his window—an act that would surely end in his death and Kempt at the mercy of Vere, but more so Akielos and an enraged king.

“You are the same as your brother,” he muttered. He stepped up to the sill and got a look at the ledge for Laurent’s window. It was surprisingly—unnervingly—close. Perhaps the reason for one or two of those attempts on Laurent’s life.

He laced up his pants the rest of the way first, then moved into position and raised his brows at Laurent.

“If you fall, we’re both dead,” he warned. “If there is a less dangerous way to do this, I suggest we do that instead."

* * *

“At least try to make it sound like that’s a bad thing,” Laurent murmured, pushing past Fynn and climbing up onto the ledge, standing up to his full height there, almost fully inside the palace at that point.

Ha glanced over his shoulder, down at Fynn and waited for him to lace up his pants properly. It seemed inconsequential at this point, but Laurent would hate for Fynn’s pants to slip and leave him exposed to the cold Veretian air - as Laurent very much was right now.

“If I fall, we’re both dead,” he agreed, but he was no longer looking at Fynn. His eyes were levelled on the nearest point of the balcony, the rungs of frozen iron that framed the flooring. He would just need to get a hold of that, have Fynn boost him over the small gap of a couple hundred-foot drop, and lift himself up. It would be easy as anything.

“So don’t let me fall.”

* * *

Fynn had done this before. Not here, exactly, but in a few brothels that Auguste was not supposed to visit, and once or twice in the chambers of a visiting woman. Back then he had agreed to help because all of the rumors started about /his/ prowess in bed and earned him quite a reputation back in his youth.

He braced a foot against the windowsill, a position that would look incredibly suspect should someone burst in at that moment.

“Ready?” he asked. His hands settled on Laurent’s hips. “Three, two, one—go!”

He hoisted him up and out like nothing, quite used to the motion from his days on ships throwing heavy rope up to sailors above. It also meant his forearms had considerably more strength then most, and he was able to support Laurent longer at the highest point.

“Do you have a hold?” he hissed. “Pull yourself up, I’ll support you as best I can.”

He sincerely hoped no one was in the courtyard below. Surely Laurent had checked?

* * *

Laurent almost made it look easy.

He hoisted himself up with very little effort after Fynn did most of the lifting, and caught his foot between the rungs. Then, it was just a matter of pulling up and climbing over, all of which Fynn helped him with flawlessly. Laurent pushed one final time off of Fynn’s hands and, voila, he was up and over. No falls or deaths to be accounted for.

“I’m impressed,” Laurent praised from above Fynn, leaning over the railing to address him properly over the wind. “You act like you’ve done that before.”

Laurent never had, that was for certain. There had been a point when he was pulling himself up that he truly realised that. Last time he had even tried such a thing, he’d whiffed it completely, ended up folded in half over a bannister, relying fully on his Akielon of choice to lift him over the railing and keep him from falling. What he has just done was absolutely dangerous.

And it had been /exhilarating/.

He’d not expected Fynn to be so strong.

Ah. There was the loneliness talking.

“I will see you in the morning, my Kemptian advisor,” Laurent smiled, opening his windows and ducking into his room before he could say something foolish.

* * *

Fynn finally let out a breath when Laurent was safely over the railing on on solid ground. He poked his head out the window to look up at him, his nerves turning to energy as he smiled up at a very young king. Vere would be just fine with Laurent at the helm, even if he could be just as stupid as Auguste with such antics.

“Goodnight, Laurent.”


	9. Chapter 9

Morning came with a flurry of activity. The men of Kempt were glad to be heading south, even if it was only to Acquitart. They welcomed a chance to attend a royal wedding, though a small group was sent back to Kempt to bring home the gifts given and to fetch Fynn’s father. of course, they also had to tell him the news that the wedding would not be his and Laurent’s, but Fynn tried not to think about that.

“Will you be riding Bavar?” Fynn asked at breakfast. “Or Ven?” He took a bite of his pastry, watching Laurent. “I would suggest Bavar, as he was specifically bred for long journeys. And clearly he is capable of surviving the worst weather. Ven might fare better with the caravan.”

It was already almost time to go, and they had a very long ride ahead. Everyone was prepared for Laurent to ride for as long as the day allowed.

* * *

Despite having planned a full day of riding nonstop, on a trip he hoped to complete in less than seven days across the coast, Laurent barely slept the night before. The sun rose and cast light into his room, past the bed, through the lounge, and straight to the desk where he had been most of the evening.

It had been too late to craft a letter to Damen explaining Fynn’s accompaniment with him, but he did try all the same. He should have done it far in advance, but Laurent had not been lying when he said he thought such accompaniment would be obvious. It did not hit him that it would not be until Fynn had told him that directly, and well, at that point, Laurent would have to be his own messenger. If a messenger could make it to Akielos faster than he, he would branch out from the caravan immediately and ride with them.

But Laurent knew Damen would understand. It wasnt like they would not have eyes on them at all times. Last night had merely been a misstep, and even then, Laurent had not done anything untrustworthy. He’d merely jumped over th expanse of his palace. He was fine.

Damen would understand. Surely.

Laurent nearly missed breakfast, overseeing a few small things on his way to the hall, but when he arrived, there were still people there. Pallas and Lazar, together of course, Jeurre and his wife, a few riders, and Fynn. Laurent took the seat next to him, not even bothering with Pallas’s glance.

Truth be told, Laurent was having a bit of a fun time just testing the Akielon.

“Ven has made it from Sicyon to Arles just fine once,” Laurent pointed out, and if he was tired, it did not show in him. He sipped his water and ate his fruit as normal, never yawning or even pausing as if to catch up with conversation.

He was excited, and it sounded in his voice, showed in his mood.

“I would ride her for the day. Perhaps give her a break over the more difficult terrain through Delfeur—Del/pha/.” He cleared his throat. “And then we will see how the trip has affected them both.”

In other words, Laurent had to very much monitor which mount he chose and where. For reasons he thought obvious.

He hoped he didn’t have to spell that one out.

* * *

Fynn understood Laurent’s dilemma in choosing which horse to ride, but it really came down to a matter of breeding. Dmane had nice horses chosen /for/ him. Fynn had raised them, had many friends who were the best breeders in Kempt for various breeds. Bavar had been chosen years earlier as a gift fit only for royalty, and he had still paid dearly to use him as a courtship gift. 

It would not sit well with him if Bavar sat in a stall and wasted away. 

“I’ll ride him if you don’t want to,” Fynn offered around a sip of his broth. “You won’t test his merit as an endurance animal with a few days of riding. He is meant to cross continents.”

He tried not to sound bitter, but wasn’t sure he succeeded. Horses were a sensitive subject for Fynn, as was anything to do with sailors. Horsemanship had been the passion of his youth, and sailing of his adult years.   


You should consider breeding them,” he added a moment later. “What a foal that would be."

* * *

“You’ve a perfectly fine horse. Leave mine be,” Laurent dismissed easily for, yes, he had heard a bitter tone in there, but no, he would not stand for it. He did not mean offence, and he was certain Ven would not be or look neglected if he did choose to ride Bavar, but he simply could not out of the gates. It would be a matter of appearances, and Laurent knew how to upkeep those.

“And I might if I’ve ever the time.”

********

As promised, just outside the palace. Laurent mounted Ven, swung his leg over her back and settled in for what would be a gruellingly long trip. Bavar would have been a better horse for this, Laurent knew. Ven was beautiful and bred for hunting, for speed, but endurance was not her strong suit. But Laurent could not just leave her behind.

In his defence, Fynn did not know about Laurent’s history with his horses. He never would have been able to leave her behind for all this time, would not have been able to think straight with her so far away. His last favourite horse has been poisoned, and he’d not allow such an incident again.

Laurent clicked his tongue at Bavar so he would lift his head, and Laurent could have /sworn/ he saw an actual acidity in the mount’s eyes, an actual gesture to his displeasure of being on a lead attached to Ven. In its own way, it was like dealing with Fynn and Damen in the same room again.

“Oh, shush you,” he murmured to Bavar with a pet to his nose before turning his own glance back to his men. Most eyes were right back on him.

Right.

“We ride to Ios,” Jord announced by way of his king. Laurent turned to Fynn just at his other side, where Laurent insisted he ride. “We do not stop until nightfall. We do not stop until our king commands it.”

It was gutsy - but ultimately correct - to say that last bit. If Laurent has his way, they’d ride through the evening, the danger be damned.

“When was the last time you were in Ios?” Laurent asked Fynn as Jord addressed the caravan.

* * *

Laurent was in a strange, but good mood, it seemed. Fynn still thought Bavar was the better choice, but he said nothing more about it and gave the horse an apologetic smile when he seemed just as confused to be following behind a stout mare build for speed.

“I think it’s been a year,” he said, trying to think back. “We docked there for several days. You were in Akielos, if I recall, but not in Ios. Damianos was with you, wherever you were.” The memory was distant, and time ran together on ships.

“We were there often before Kastor took the throne. Two or three times a year, at least.”

When Jord finished his speech they started forward at a swift trot and Fynn knew it was going to be a very long day indeed. But even Laurent would have to tire at some point, not even love and desire could fuel a man to be foolish enough to ride through the night in dark country.

Then again, this was the same man who rode home at night in a snowstorm.

“We /will/ be stopping tonight, yes?” Fynn asked. Better to start the conversation now.

* * *

“I was in Sicyon,” Laurent recalled fondly as he tapped his heels into Ven to start her along the road out. 

There was no point in trying to carry a conversation until they had surpassed the gates of Arles, what with the crowd there to see them off. How strange it was to think that, as of this day, Arles would no longer be home to him. After his twenty-one years of memories both good and bad, his time in Arles would now be temporary as he continued his life in Marlas. 

Laurent did not know how he felt about that just yet.

He would be back, of course. There were still belongings to gather, still loose ends to tie. They had to acclimate people to the idea of the new capitol, but then it would merely be visiting.

Laurent turned his head back to the city, settled his eyes on the picked, unrecognisable remains of his uncle strung upon the gate.

In his absence, he would have that man removed from Arles entirely for the day he did return. Everything his uncle has been, everything he owned, it would all be gone before he returned, he would be sure of it. He and Damen would make Marlas there’s, and in time, they would have Arles as well. With Ios, they would have three places to call home, three places to rule their kingdom from. With Damen—

Laurent turned his head to Fynn, his attention caught by his being addressed. Despite being torn from his thoughts, he caught up quickly enough.

“I was entertaining the idea of riding six days straight,” Laurent replied, causing every close-by head to turn to him for a moment, unable to catch when their king was merely joking. “But for once, I think I may just be /reasonable/.”

* * *

Thankfully, Laurent remained reasonable. They rode hard, but the caravan had prepared for an eventual split between king and supplies, so they had a small guard with them, and servants to put up their tents for the night. The wind had kicked up just after dinner, so Fynnw as grateful that they were not tempting the weather as they bedded down.

“I feel like a pet,” he greeted later that evening as he entered Laurent’s tent with a tray of their dinner, Two bowls of soup, bread, and tender pieces of meat cooked over the fire.

He took a seat on the cushions, well aware that Pallas was stationed just outside with Lazar and probably listening very closely to what was going on inside.

“You must be careful not to get saddle sore,” Fynn teased as he handed over Laurent’s meal, placing it on the small table between them, made just for lounging and eating as they were. “Or else it may hurt quite a bit the moment you and Damianos find a moment together.”

* * *

“You are not a pet,” Laurent was quick to reply, a defensive he always had at the ready now due to his past with Damen and the hardships that came with it. He had such an aversion to the very idea of Damen feeling like a pet, that it just sort of…came out for Fynn as well. It was a bit too passionate for a joke.

Laurent cleared his throat and, more calmly, added, “You simply don’t look the role.”

It felt like a valiant save.

Finn certainly had the punctuality of a pet. Laurent had only just settled in his tent, had only just begun to remove his riding clothes when Fynn walked in with their meals. He set his jacket down on the bed, thinking it best to at least have his leisure clothes on him for this.

“You make it sound like that is something that could stop me,” Laurent told Fynn as he sat amongst the cushions, going straight in for his meal. “Is that something _you_ could not weather through? Saddle soreness?” Laurent gave him an absolutely exaggerated look of pity at the very idea.

* * *

“I would rather not ‘weather’ through any form of lovemaking, no,” Fynn replied absently, sipping at his soup. “If a man is intent on sticking me with his cock, he can wait until I’m good and ready.” He didn’t waste time with pleasure unless it was going to be worth it, and few men were. He certainly wouldn’t put up with the potential for a man to tear him.

He still didn’t trust Damianos to put Laurent’s welfare before his own desire, and comments like that made Fynn feel right in his distrust. Sex wasn’t something to be endured, but enjoyed.

“Laurent, I hope he has not made you accustomed to pain,” Fynn said seriously. “I know there are many who enjoy that as a part of lovemaking but it isn’t something you should come to expect each time you are in bed.”

Damianos was an oaf, and Fynn woudl never change his mind on that. He was the type to see nothing but a warm, wet place for his cock and nothing more, blinded by lust. Or so Fynn could assume based on his inability to find any sense when it came to his anger.

He waved a hand dismissively. “And I /know/—you always claim he is never rough with you, but what about after you are married? I am sure we both know of many who find their spouse to change once they are wed. I don’t want Damianos to be that for you."

* * *

Laurent flicked a piece of bread directly at Fynn.

“I am twenty-one years old,” Laurent reminded Fynn quite confidently. “I know what it is to make love and to fuck and what to expect, /Herzog/.”

Of course, he had learned that more recently than he liked to admit, but that was not a part of this conversation. What mattered was what Damen had taught him and, more often than not, they did make love. There was no pain, there was no uncalled for roughness. Damen gave what Laurent asked for - and sometimes withheld it for Laurent’s safety. He wouldn’t let Fynn think otherwise.

Laurent smirked and, just as casually as he had flicked the first piece of bread, he flicked another, this one to show he meant no harm in his tone.

“Damen does not hurt me unless I ask him to,” he followed up casually, leaning back in his seat and sipping his water. “And he goes slow when I ask him to. Deep when I ask him to. He cums when I tell him to."

Damen was a fantastic lover, and Laurent knew Fynn probably would not want to hear it - nor would he ever accept it - but Damen deserved to be given respect where respect was due. And Laurent /might/ have been boasting a bit, showing off to Fynn what he knew and what he experienced, but it was all in good nature.

There was no need to fret.

“I’ve known bad fucking. This isn’t it.”

Laurent said it easily and plainly, went right into actually eating his bread when he said it as if it didn’t make his stomach turn.

He was growing.

He /had/ grown.

“I have asked him to not to make me take charge,” Laurent murmured, hoping a bit of vulnerability and honesty here might keep the conversation level, might not have Fynn storming off from him. “But he cares far too much. I do not see that changing any time soon."

* * *

“Don’t try to use your age as a reason why you know better,” Fynn said with a roll of his eyes. Twenty-one. What a child Laurent still was. And he wanted to say as much, but held his tongue as Laurent continued. While he doubted Damen actually waited for a command to cum, he supposed the imagery as nice. How powerful Laurent must feel in being able to control such a savagely beautiful man as Damianos.

“As if you would ever let /him/ take charge,” Fynn laughed, swatting the breadcrumbs from his hair. His smile softened though, thankful that Laurent had decided to push this. It was good to spend time with him and not have rumors of sleeping together, though he was sure those would follow them wherever they went now.

“I must say I’m impressed with his monogamy,” Fynn continued, though his tone said he doubted it was true. “A man as insatiable as Damianos doesn’t even take pets? What a hold you have on him.”

People in Vere still referred to the relationship as one between slave and master, but Fynn could not imagine Damianos as a pet in any capacity. “I still can’t imagine him as a pet, let alone behaving.” He waved his hand. “Not to bring up the past, but even with the way you flogged him, I can’t imagine him staying contained by pet chains and not lashing out at every Veretian in sight.”

He looked down at his soup.

“You spoke about Akielons growing hostile. I think that is what you will have to face more than your marriage.” He turned his gaze to Laurent again. “I suggest you address it openly. As you may have noticed, Akielons value physical demonstration over talk. Those slave cuffs you wear may be sentimental to you, but they will remind Akielons of the greatest insult their king has ever been forced to bear. It would be wise for both of you to do away with them, or make a show of melting them down."

* * *

“I hear your doubt,” Laurent murmured as he chewed over his food, but he let Fynn continue to speak, let him finish his thought, let him finish digging his grave before Laurent pushed him into it.

“He was not obedient, if that is what you are getting at,” Laurent responded coolly, addressing their past without much hesitation. It was so rare he got to without having to choose his words so carefully, without trying to play off his guilt. “He tried to be, i think. To save his own skin, but he’s got this horrible mouth on him.”

Laurent said it fondly, even let his lips twitch up in a little smile.

“We spoke in ultimatums and battles of pride.” Laurent reached across the table to steal a tear of Fynn’s bread. “He did as he pleased under the guise of enslavement, but we both knew he’d not truly been captured.” Not until he’d fallen for Laurent and Laurent for him.

But the story was long, complicated. It would not be so easily addressed with the Akielons, ad Laurent would not want to. Not in full truth. For both their sakes.

“It was merely a ploy of my uncle’s. We plan to present it as such.”

They had never spoken of it.

Laurent’s fingers came to circle his cuffed wrist, pads of his fingers running over the dimpled gold of the cuff.

“I will admit to what I did as Damen dictates. He knows his people better than I.” Part of that statement had been true. “See? I /can/ give over control.”

* * *

Fynn wasn’t so sure the Akielons would find it so easy to brush off, especially with those ugly scars permanently painted on Damen’s back. He would have been perfection in Akielon form had Laurent not marred him in such a way. As touching as a romantic tale between slave and captor might be in a book, this was no story. Damianos was an incredibly powerful king, and Akielos would not let that presence be dimmed by a Veretian.

“As your advisor, I am telling you the cuffs need to come off,” Fynn said, again. Because Laurent had ignored it. “And I hope your plan is thorough and rehearsed. If you say something that does not match what Damianos has said, they will distrust you.”

He cleared his throat. “And if anyone hears the truth of what happened between the three of us—“ He shifting his gaze toward the door, toward Pallas and Lazar. “—they will turn on you unless Damen says convincingly that he welcomed you to experiment.”

Something Damianos would be incapable of.

He finished off his soup and leaned back against the cushions.

“But, all of that will be settled after…what do you think, two days of fucking? Perhaps three? I don’t understand how either of you can find that interesting, though I am curious how many positions you’ve tried."

* * *

Fynn was bombarded with three more crumbs of bread for his tone.

“He does not allow me to do more,” Laurent said, as if he totally had an idea of what more there was to do. He /had/ grown up in Vere, and knew probably much more than someone on their first lover should, but even so, Laurent had genuinely not paid that much attention. He didn’t think it would be something that would affect him, kept his nose down in books mostly just to avoid it.

He had, to this point, done all that he’d learned.

“He worries for me and my body and—“ Laurent waved his hand in the air. “You'd call him brute, I’d call him a puppy. But who knows?” Laurent popped a piece of bread in his mouth. “Perhaps after our marriage he /will/ change, but I hardly dread anything he could become.”

Laurent knew Damen too well.

“I do not know that I could enjoy him more than I already do either, but I think I could be better at showing it."

* * *

“I didn’t mean he would become worse,” Fynn corrected. “I meant the opposite, actually. That he might vary your lovemaking and allow you more.” Though he suspected Laurent never asked for anything more—he couldn’t see Damen denying Laurent anything in the bedchamber, no matter how profane.

Auguste would have probably squeezed Laurent’s cheeks and gushed at his innocence. Fynn was certainly tempted to, if he felt he could get away with it will keeping his life.

“I won’t disagree,” he said with another sip of wine. “He is quite obviously obsessed with you, yet you telling him goodbye was about the most affection I’ve seen you give him public.” There had been plenty of talking about it too, so Fynn could guess that it wasn’t just him who felt that way.

“I still don’t understand what you’re afraid of. Your council is a sorry excuse for power, though they do plenty of puffing. And if they ever said anything with an actual threat, Damianos has shown what he does to people who interfere.”

Fynn still had redness under his brow from that punch, and a scar that wasn’t likely to go away.

“And you are officially to be married, why wait any longer?"

* * *

And that was why Laurent needed Fynn - wanted him around, anyway. He told Laurent how it was, told him the truth and did not fear to do so. Laurent needed that in his life.

“They will use it against me,” Laurent replied easily, settling back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest in a way that made a barrier, no matter how lax his stance. “I am young, I am not the man Auguste was physically, I am untrained as a king, and I have been tried in front of my people as an easily-coerced traitor more recently than o like to think.” Laurent took a sip of his drink.

They were back into a serious conversation - one Laurent had to entertain because it was technically /why/ Fynn had travelled with him.

“My kindness and my affections have been taken advantage of in the past. My losses have been used against me. Ive had horses poisoned, /I’ve/ been poisoned.” Drugged, technically. “I have grown and I’ll not allow it to happen again.”

He wondered if Fynn had known what he signed up for when he asked that question. Laurent supposed the question itself was so frequently asked, and to finally tell the truth about it, to finally be straightforward about it felt...bittersweet. He felt as anxious as he did liberated, and it was quite difficult to manage. But it was the truth.

* * *

So it was fear. Fynn frowned, once again cursing himself for not being there when Laurent needed him, back when the Regent made an absolute mess of things. He would have killed that man and suffered the consequences, though it was easy to say that now that it was all past. he hated himself for not being there.

“Well, now you have me. And Damianos and his closest advisors as well, Laurent. The time for defense is past, don’t you think? Anyone foolish enough to come for you now will be met with the might of two kingdoms.”

It was strange to see Laurent having such a tough time speaking about something as normal as showing affection, but Fynn could tell that though he glossed over poisonings like they were commonplace, it must have affected him.

“You are marrying a powerful king,” Fynn reminded him gently. “One who loves you enough to stay two weeks in your kingdom while he was convinced you loved another man.”

He sat back, folding his hands across his chest. “I would love to hear how you think they will use your affection for your husband against you."

* * *

Laurent did not feel that he needed to say it. He merely looked up at Fynn, then down at himself and back up to Fynn, indicating /them/.

“I've already given them this,” Laurent did say aloud, for again, it might not be /obvious/ enough. “I gave them my past with Damianos, I gave them those scars on his back, Ive given them everything to use against me already.”

But those were all terrible things /he’d/ done, things that could be turned against him, but none of it was based in his affection for Damen. /That/ was where Laurent’s true fear came from.

“They’ll take him from me,” Laurent murmured, thumping the side of his thumb on the table, eyes no longer so confidently up on Fynn. “People I care for have a fascinatingly consistent history of misfortune. Everything I’ve cared for openly has—“ Laurent flicked another crumb of bread, thinking that made his point clear enough.

“They used our affections against us once, and they almost won. And, you didn’t know Nicaise, but—“

That wasn’t important.

“This isn’t what you came to talk about,” Laurent reasoned with shake of his head, dismissing the whole conversation just like that. “You should be asleep. We’ve a long day ahead of us.”

* * *

“That wasn’t giving them anything,” Fynn replied quietly. “That was baseless drama.” Well, it hadn’t exactly been baseless, but even so. He continued to listen, and pity welled in him, because Laurent didn’t deserve to feel this way for something as pure and good as loving Damianos.

“No one is going to take him away from you,” Fynn assured him, his voice gentle. “You will be married, Laurent. That ties you together politically , and no country would be foolish enough to get on the bad side of a kingdom formed by way of peace and not violence. If anyone wanted to do harm to your lover, it would be—“

Now. He sighed. “It would have been when he was in Arles. When everyone thought we were together and he had been betrayed. No one dared.”

Fynn stood up, brushing breadcrumbs from his clothes before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Laurent’s forehead.

“There is no one alive you can defeat you,” Fynn reminded him. “Until someone is, I suggest you show Akielos that you love their king as much as they do.” He bowed his head. “Goodnight, Laurent."

* * *

Laurent shied at the kiss, but only because it was something Auguste used to do out of pity for him. When Laurent fell and skinned his knee, when Laurent fought his bedtime so passionately, when Laurent was forced to head inside when all he wanted to do was ride his pony. Laurent had no interest in being pitied, but he did not speak against it.

“Goodnight, Fynn,” he murmured, catching Pallas’ eye when the tent flap flipped open. Pallas turned away when he caught Laurent’s eyes, placated enough to see Laurent still sat on his cushions, just by his dinner plates.

*****

The trip was significantly slowed on the third day, where a broken down wagon and it’s own caravan on the trade route halted Laurent’s entire caravan for just long enough to force them to bed down far before Laurent would have liked to stop riding.

They were back on the road at sun up, passing through Karthas, beefing down in Sicyon where they were led by Akielon soldiers to a safe and spacious field, far enough from the sea.

Laurent had not been able to see much of Akielos by the route they’d taken, and that was for obvious reason. They were on a safe trail, one that missed most major cities. It seemed Damen had sent a small guard for him to lead Laurent down just the path that would avoid areas of recent destruction, of uneven ground, and of large crowds that might see fit to stop the Veretian camp.

Laurent recognised the high walls of the Kingsmeet in the distance ahead of them as they crested the hill to their camp. They’d been told to bed down just on the outskirts of the city for the evening, for entering during the day might be more widely accepted by the Akielon people. The ride to Ios would only be a few hours more, and Laurent thought to fight it, but he agreed all the same, thinking these men would not announce it if it were not of Damen’s mind.

“We turn in early tonight,” Laurent told Jord, standing with crossed arms just outside of his tent. “I want everyone packed and ready to move at dawn. We will be in Ios before midday. I would have everyone rested and ready to make...an impression.”

“An impression, your majesty,” Jord confirmed and left his king to his tent while he spread the orders.

The camp was quiet just a few hours later, only the sounds of crackling fires (almost unneeded in Ios now), soft conversations, and the many calls of insects that were all quite new to Laurent.

In the morning, he would see Damianos. It had been two weeks, but I had felt like something of a lifetime. No harm had come to Laurent in Damen’s absence, and Laurent had heard no news of harm to Damianos, but he had worried all the same. Tomorrow, he would see him again, and in only a couple week’s time, they would be married.

And Laurent would be of Vere and Akielos.

And tomorrow would be his...second impression to the people of Ios, the first since the announcement. It would be his first time seeing Damen in two weeks, and—

Laurent cursed at himself, giving himself a proper once over with something of disappointment. Two weeks on a horse, dressed in warm, right clothing, and he needed to /bathe/. He would hardly make an impression smelling like the horse he did, his hair not necessarily at its cleanest.

He used the back flap of his tent and began to move into the woods just behind their camp, deftly moving along the tree line to the east where he knew he would ultimately hit water. He supposed he could have brought a guard, but truly, it wasn’t /so/ far from the camp that he felt any fear.

It was a small lake surrounded by trees that he found after a short walk through the woods. He could see traces of his men here, from forgotten cloths to remnants of food, so he could assume the water was safe to use. He’d not heard any tales of his men dying just yet.

It took a few moments, but Laurent removed his clothing, hung his fine Veretian cloths on the branch of tree, the buds of flowers closed tight for the evening, but showing the signs of an already promising spring.

The water was warmer than Laurent expected, but not as warm as a bath would have been. He did not shy from it, and after a few tentative steps, Laurent was in waist-level water, relying on the moonlight to give him any glimpses of animals or snakes that might come his way.

* * *

The trip was grueling, but Fynn found it nice to be able to speak with Laurent without fear of being attacked by his lover. They ate dinner together most nights, discussing policy or the best course of action for their arrival in Ios. Fynn befriended their Akielon guards when they joined them, and spent a night with them as well.

It was nice to avoid crowds. Their camp was easier to defend, and Damianos had clearly sent guards capable of defending much larger targets. Theyw ere all skilled with spears, and their horses were strong and agile.

Their final evening before heading to Ios, Fynn chcked to make sure Laurent was bedded down for the night, noting Pallas’s glare as he neared the tent. Instead of entering, he merely continued on to his own and gathered fresh clothes before heading out toward the lake to bathe. He smelled terrible, and he would not represent Kempt in such a state.

He heard someone as he approached, but many had used the lake for bathing already, and Fynn didn’t see a need to bathe privately. So he took off his clothes and tossed them aside without much of a care and then stepped out into the open shore—

To see Laurent, pale-skinned and beautiful, washing himself. Alone.

“What are you doing here alone?” Fynn hissed first, because this was incredibly dangerous. He wasn’t backing down either, he was too cold and his clothes were not going to be put back on with how they currently smelled.

Of course, Fynn realized the implications if anyone found them here, but he was more concerned about Laurent.

“You just invite scandal, don’t you?” Fynn muttered, stepping into the water. Moonlight glinted off of his piercings—a flat bar through his left nipple, and yes, his cock was pierced, but given that it was a piercing on the underside of his shaft, he had hoped Laurent wasn’t looking there, again.

It was good that the water was cold.

* * *

Laurent heard the shifting of the brush before he could do much more about it. All at once, he was very much aware of how alone he was. He’d meant to be more vigilant, even had a dagger at the ready on the bank, but he’d gotten comfortable. He’d been thinking of arriving in Ios, of the warmth of Damen’s bed, of the wide windows, fbe silken sheets, the fresh fruit, the sea, and he’d just...drifted.

He whirled around in the water, disturbing the silence and placidity of the lake with violent little waves, very much at the ready to talk his way out of this, before he landed his eyes on—

Fynn.

“Fuck,” Laurent exhaled candidly, one hand at his heart as he came down from what that very well could have been. Had it been anyone else, he would have given himself a bit more dignity here, but it was just Fynn. A very nude, very exposed Fynn who shone and glinted in the moonlight in quite a few unnatural places.

Yes, Laurent noticed.

It was difficult not to, to be perfectly honest. Anyone that approached would have gotten a full look over for weapons and weakness. It just so happened it had been Fynn with nary a scrap of clothing.

“I ordered everyone to bed,” Laurent responded, turning his back to Fynn as coolly as he could, hoping to just breeze over what had just happened, hoping the moon at his back hid his glance. “You think yourself above my rulings, then?”

* * *

“I certainly do now,” Fynn replied as he waded deeper into the water. “Out here alone with no guard, with no weapons! You are inviting your enemies to take you out, Laurent.” He stayed a bit of a distance away, but was close enough to strike should some siren come bursting from the calm surf to attack them both.

Men bathed together, it was commonplace. Kings certainly didn’t bathe with other men, but Fynn could argue he was Laurent’s guard…until Pallas interjected. Either way, Damen was a few hours away, likely sleeping in his silk sheets and dreaming of Laurent.

“I assume you are cleaning up for your husband-to-be?” Fynn asked as he began to scrub the grime from his arms. “I don’t know why you bother, he would fuck you even if you smelled of a horse,” he teased. “In fact, I think he would fuck you even if you /were/ a horse.”

Fynn dunked himself for that one, scrubbing his hair with his knuckles. He was truly filthy, and it was nice to clean the sweat off of himself. Ios would smell them before they saw them, surely.

“What will you do when you see him?"

* * *

“I brought a weapon,” Laurent protested, pointing to his dagger on the farthest shore from the camp. “I was not completely unprepared.” He had simply zoned out a bit. It happened. Especially when Laurent was very much cleaning for his husband-to-be, thinking of their future together, thinking of when they were reunited.

He had it all planned out.

Laurent would greet the Akielons as he rode into the city, would spot Damen across the way and would ride up to him, all eyes on them as Laurent dismounted from Ven, allowed himself to be whisked up into Damen’s arms. They’d kiss in the square, let the people pass their first judgements as they must, and then, they would away to Damen’s chambers - which Laurent had last seen too long ago - and they would make up for lost time.

But all he told Fynn was, “I’m sure I’ll think of something.” As if Fynn did not know his passion for planning.

“I’ve brought perfumes,” Laurent pointed out next to his clothing where a small leather satchel sat. “I’m not quite sure that scrubbing will help you at all. I am surprised the Akielons have not stormed our camp expecting some large wild beast with the scent you’ve given off.”

Laurent dunked himself for that one, though it was less of a ‘dunk’ and more of a graceful sinking that submerged him entirely before he rose again, scrubbing at his own hair. He had soap in his hand, which Fynn lacked.

“Here,” Laurent approached Fynn with the soap outstretched as if meaning to keep the most distance he could between them. Caught like this, any closer than they needed to be, would be damning.

But right now, it was a bit exciting.

* * *

Fynn rolled his eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me then.” He knew Laurent better than to think he hadn’t planned every detail of the reunion. They had only been apart two weeks or so and if Laurent was acting this way, Damianos was probably tearing things apart with the force of his desire. It was odd to think Laurent was doing something similar in his own way.

He looked at the soap for a moment before reaching out, his skin turning to gooseflesh when his fingers brushed Laurent’s. He was striking. All in Vere told tales of Laurent’s fair skin and golden hair, bu it was something else to see his bare chest, his stomach, all of the parts hidden by a chiton.

Fynn didn’t linger though, and turned away slightly to begin scrubbing himself clean with soap.

“I must say I forgot soap,” he laughed. “And yes, perfumes. I thought I wouldn’t have a chance to bathe until tomorrow. And Akielon baths are something else. Vere must adopt their aqueduct system.”

He kept his eyes averted, even though he could feel that Laurent might not pull away if touched. If they made it look like an accident. It was hard not to think with his cock when he’d been lonely too—lonely and rejected. To have the knowledge that there might be chance to touch Laurent, to graze the muscle of his stomach, that spot where Damianos supposedly touched—

“You should hurry back,” Fynn said. “If Pallas finds that you’ve left your tent and then discovers I’m gone as well…we may undo all we’ve done so much to mend."

* * *

The air thickened, and Laurent noticed it the moment it happened. One touch of their hands and it all came to a head. Laurent missed Damen terribly and, not being someone who could take pleasure in touching himself, Laurent bordered dangerously on touch-starved. He still thought fondly back to that little forehead kiss Fynn had given him, even if he had shunned it when it happened. Laurent had never seen himself as someone who had desires for physical intimacy, but that had been before Damen.

Laurent at least had the mind to pull away as if he’d not noticed the change.

“You are trying to sabotage me,” Laurent laughed easily, running his soapy hands through his hair, over his body. His nails left red lines over his soft skin, and he was hardly even scratching - except for where he needed to.

He splashed a little water at Fynn as he rinsed off, noticing for only a moment the way his piercings glinted in the moonlight.

Laurent thought of Damen.

And then he thought of Fynn again when he thought about that third piercing.

Laurent did his best to let it lie, but as he moved to the shore, grabbed his bedclothes, Laurent couldn’t help himself.

“Why your cock?” He asked, running a towel over his hair, his body covered in his sleeping tunic now that he was in the plain air. “What could have possibly driven you to want a needle /there/?”

* * *

So Laurent /had/ looked. Fynn took pride in that, though he knew he shouldn’t take pride in catching the gaze of a man betrothed to someone else. but surely Laurent counted—he was widely regarded as one of the most beautiful people in all of the kingdoms.

He stepped from the water ad grabbed his try clothes, a loose pair of pants and an equally loose shirt. he didn’t have sleeping tunics to wear on the road—he had to be ready for an attack, even now.

“Experience,” he chuckled, shaking out his hair. “A man fucked me with a piercing like this one, and to this day I have not forgotten the pleasure of it. I found a very skilled woman in one of Kempt’s ports known for such things. It was painful, but not for very long.”

He hardly ever noticed it now, only when his lovers stared and he had to assure them they wouldn’t be cut by it—he usually showed them the barbell design, but obviously would not be doing so for Laurent.

“Not only does it enhance the pleasure of my partner—tenfold, I would say—but mine as well. I’m not sure how—it’s difficult to explain.” He flashed a wicked grin. “But it is like nothing else. It’s too bad you’ll never have the chance to feel it, he teased, hanging his towel over his shoulders.

“Now, return to your tent. If you get killed along the way, then you are not as skilled with that knife as I thought."

* * *

Laurent went through a small cavalcade of emotion when Fynn made clear his reasoning behind his piercing.

At first, Laurent rolled his eyes at the response of ‘experience.’ It was a card Fynn had played against him time and time again, and Laurent had stopped putting stock in it. Laurent imagined he could have fucked as much as Fynn and still not be so inspired as to stick a needle through his cock.

But then, Laurent had to process the fact that /Fynn/ had been fucked with one of those piercings. He didn’t know why, but it surprised Laurent to hear that, and it also...settled something in him he hadn’t known to be raging. To hear Fynn also received like a pet - like a /woman/ - was surprisingly settling. He gained some respect in that.

Then it was a raised brow and a pursed lip at Fynn’s audacity to pity Laurent for not experiencing it. That was /bold/, and Laurent certainly had to respect that.

“You are unbelievable,” Laurent chuckled fondly, tossing his dirtied shirt at Fynn from the pile he held in his arms. “I will see you on the road tomorrow. Should /you/ die on the way back, you will only solidify my belief that everyone I love, perishes.”

And with that, Laurent was off.

Barefoot, Laurent moved quietly through the trees. He kept an eye out this time, focused, dagger at the ready just in case someone tried something now. He was not dressed as he would have like to have been for an ambush, but he’d done more with less.

But soon enough, he was back at his tent, sneaking under the back flap as silently as he approached it, ready for sleep, ready to rush the time before he saw Damianos again.

And he was the /tiniest/ bit flustered.


	10. Chapter 10

Night descended on the camp, and the men mostly contained themselves. Tomorrow would be the night of lovers and drink in full order, so no one got too rambunctious. Jord kept everyone in line, and Lucien watched him with a fond smile each time he got after one of the men for being drunk or saying something they shouldn’t.

Pallas stood guard most of the evening. Lazar brought him dinner and stood with him for awhile before kissing him goodnight to sleep before his own shift.

It was almost time for Lazar’s turn when Pallas heard horses at the head of camp—and not just one. Jord was out of his tent in moments, though Pallas noticed he did have to fasten his belt before running off toward the noise.

Several minutes later a man came toward him with Jord, hooded and cloaked. he was tall, with broad shoulders and—

“Da—“

“Shh,” Jord put a finger to his lips, sporting a sly smile.

Damianos nodded in greeting and gave his shoulder a pat, but it was clear who he had come to visit. and why. He slipped into the tent and Pallas smiled at Jord, who returned it. /Thank god,/ he thought. /We might get to sleep in./

*****

Damen moved into Laurent’s tent where the braziers were already low, the lamps extinguished. He hadn’t meant to come so late, but his rider had returned some hours ago and Damen had quite the ride to make from the palace without being seen. He simply couldn’t wait another day to see…

There he was. Damen’s heart melted at the sight of Laurent fast asleep, swathed in warm furs and silk sheets, his blond hair a complete mess in a way that he only allowed in private company. Damen had dreamed of him every night, had waited for this moment.

He also knew he was likely to get stabbed with some sort of weapon if he didn’t do this correctly.

So he moved to his knees beside Laurent’s bed and adjusted a brazier so that the light was on his face and Laurent wasn’t frightened by a shadowy figure.

Then he reached forward and stroked Laurent’s cheek with his finger, his heart already fit to burst and crashing around in his chest.

“Laurent,” he whispered. “Sweetheart, wake up."

* * *

Sleep had taken Laurent not long after he’d crawled into his bed. His tent felt empty, almost unnervingly so as he prepped himself for sleep. He dampened his own braziers, packed his own clothes away, settled in to his too-large travel bed. It was strange to be so close to Ios and yet to feel so far from Damen.

Laurent had once more been reminded of his loneliness, not only from his conversation with Fynn, but in his maidenly attempts to wash himself for Damen. Laurent had almost thought it pathetic, right until he thought about just whom he had done it for, and then his heart swelled with another bout of loneliness.

Sleep would do him well.

And as the camp went quiet, Laurent found that sleep, let himself dream of what tomorrow could be.

He slept for what felt like a few days, though had truthfully been only a few hours, completely exhausted from the hard travelling. He was unmoving, unbothered, breathing so softly, completely at peace.

Then, the stranger came.

Laurent had been in this predicament more times than he liked to admit. He’d not heard the figure enter the tent, had not heard an uproar at the entrance of his tent, had not noticed anyone was even there until the light /moved/.

He stirred, feeling feeling presence of another as he had with Fynn at the lake, as he had when he’d been drugged and left in his room to be raped and murdered by his uncle’s hired men, but he did not move. Not so noticeably, anyway. Laurent’s hand snaked to the dagger just by his fingers, closed his grip around it—

And instantly froze when he felt the finger at his cheek.

“I planned a public scene,” Laurent murmured sleepily, only opening his eyes a moment later to confirm that he knew whose touch that was.

Damen smelled of his Akielon self, of the sea and of leather - and only slightly of horse. His touch was as rough as Laurent remembered, his fingers calloused from sport, but Laurent chased it all the same, turning his head to press a kiss to Damen’s fingertip.

He felt...whole again. It was a strange feeling that Laurent had not even properly noticed until the other half of his soul stood by his side again. Tall, terribly handsome, in quite a fetching cloak. Like a thief in the night, here to steal Laurent away from his loneliness.

Laurent smiled at how absolutely ridiculous that was.

* * *

Damen laughed softly, his grin threatening to split his face. Gods, it had been too long. He’d missed Laurent like a lung, needed him so many times but was left with nothing but a quill and parchment instead of his quick wit and soft touch. Damen had planned a public scene as well, but his scouts had done well to inform him how close the caravan had come.

“We will have it,” he murmured, untying his sandals with one hand and kicking them off as he crawled into Laurent’s bed. “I have told no one except Nikandros that I’m here. Tomorrow will be our first meeting in the eyes of our people.”

He understood now why men bemoaned war, of how much time it took from their wives. Damen pinned Laurent with his elbows on either side of him, still taking the time just to marvel at his beautiful face. How he had missed it.

“I missed you—“ He couldn’t even finish is own sentence before his lips were pressed to Laurent’s, chasing away the deep loneliness of the past few weeks. Laurent almost felt like a stranger in some ways, though they had not been apart long at all.

“I must warn you I have to leave before dawn,” he breathed out between soft kisses. “I have to return to the palace before people begin to look for me.” He pulled back a little, figuring it would be best not to speak while also trying to kiss every inch of skin Laurent had to offer. “Are you well? You smell wonderful.” He grinned. “I received your perfume. You do not want to know what I did with it."

* * *

Damen was welcomed into the bed, and for someone who had slept alone for so long, Laurent’s body had instinctually found its place alongside Damen without hesitation. He rolled right onto his back, staring up at Damen with an undeniable and immeasurable fondness, only breaking that gaze when his eyes fell closed in the kiss.

Which Laurent also chased when Damen pulled away. He successfully pulled him into a follow up kiss, his hands holding at Damen’s hips, before they parted again, this time giving themselves space to speak.

“You went rogue for me,” Laurent grinned, not at all hiding how much he enjoyed knowing that fact. His thighs basically parted at the very idea. It seemed his bathing would pay off sooner than he thought - and be rendered useless just as quickly.

“I am well,” he did assure Damen, not wanting to leave any openings for hesitancy or worry here. “I rested, as you so insisted, I’ve been kept safe, I’ve eaten and—“

He couldn’t finish it without another kiss, had to have his lips on Damen’s again before he could think to finish his sentence.

“And I would /love/ to know what you did with my perfumes.”

* * *

“It wasn’t the first time, nor the last,” Damen laughed. Laurent felt different beneath him in a way he hadn’t yet been able to place. He felt fully relaxed already, softer, without hard edges to chisel away before they found each other again. It warmed him, just as it did to know and /see/ that Laurent had actually followed instructions this time.

He met the kiss and then turned his head to mouth at Laurent’s throat as he spoke, one hand moving between them and slipping under Laurent’s tunic to wrap gently around his cock. “That, mostly,” he laughed, returning to Laurent’s mouth. “And I would dab some on my pillow at night, and always dream of you. Intimately.”

He released Laurent’s cock only to rub the inside of Laurent’s thigh, his own length hardening at the mere realization that this was not a dream this time.

“I cannot wait for you any longer,” he murmured. “Do you have oil? If not I will demand some from Pallas, I am not ashamed.” He kissed him again, slow and wanting this time.

“How do you want to be fucked, Laurent? Tell me how you’ve desired me. I have a few hours to bed you before we pretend to meet each other and I take you away to fuck you for the rest of the day in my chambers. How is that for a plan, my love?"

* * *

For once, Laurent felt the very same.

“I could not even touch myself,” Laurent breathed softly, as he pushed up on his elbows, produced the needed oil from his bedside satchel not a moment later. Damen had only touched his cock - and truly just his face - and Laurent already knew what he wanted. He wanted to feel Damen, to have what he had only been able to dream of in Damen’s absence. “There is nothing that compares to you, Damen. My hands are—too small.”

But, they were deft, quick, and while Damen took to the oil, Laurent worked at his cloak, the riding pants we wore, the tie of his chiton, any fabric that kept them separated. He lifted his own bed shirt over his head, dropped it to the ground and Laurent - ‘inexperienced’ Laurent - surged upward, his hands boldly running up the length of Damen’s back to his shoulders, and he roughly pulled him down, in for another kiss.

In a moment, Laurent’s legs were hooked around Damen’s waist, his cock brushing against Damen’s, and this might have been the first time in some time that Laurent has truly /shown/ his desire. The last time had been when he’d nearly taken Damen dry, when Damen had so gallantly broke a lamp just for its oil in an attempt to keep up with Laurent’s needs.

And Laurent /needed/.

* * *

Well, Damen certainly hadn’t expected to be complimented so openly upon his return. _Nothing compares to you._ He took the oil in hand and began to warm it in his palms as Laurent set about taking off his clothes. The air was still chilly, but nothing like Vere. Damen could still smell the seawater on the breeze—he was home, and so was Laurent.

Clothing was discarded in short order, and Damen didn’t have time to appreciate Laurent’s naked body before hands were running up his back and his lips were crashing into Laurent’s, eliciting a moan from him. Their cocks rubbed together and Damen had half a mind to try to cum just from that, but he knew better. Laurent made it very clear he wanted to be fucked. Thoroughly.

He didn’t waste time pressing two fingers into him, stretching impossibly tight muscle that made his cock begin to leak with anticipation.

“Spread your legs wider,” he demanded gruffly, his free hand nested in Laurent’s hair to hold him still while he fucked him open with his fingers. He knew he was being clumsy with it, but his desire was so thick he could hardly see straight.

He pulled out and sat back only briefly to properly wet his cock, already hard and aching. Weeks alone and now he finally had Laurent before him, breathless and wanting.

“Hit me if I start to hurt you,” he said. “I mean it.” He might not notice otherwise.

Damen spread Laurent’s thighs even further, but was gentle about it—he knew the muscle was probably sore from riding. Then he lined himself up with Laurent’s entrance, rubbing the head of his cock there just to remind himself that this was indeed, real.

Then he pushed inside, let out out a groan of pure pleasure as Laurent tightened around him so exquisitely.

He tried to go slowly, he really did. But soon Damen was panting over Laurent’s collarbone, sinking his hips deeper, working his way inside until he finally—finally—bottomed out. His lips found Laurent’s neck, kissing and licking and nibbling there as he let him adjust, every movement sending desire through him like lightning.

“Can I please turn you over,” he begged, not even fully aware of what he was saying. “Fuck you like I did at the inn. I need to /fuck/ you, Laurent. You're mine and I want to fuck you.”

He thought he was being eloquent.

* * *

Anticipation had begun to ache in Laurent’s gut, leaving him to roll his hips into Damen’s, to grasp at sheets and pillows as he waited to finally just be /taken/.

He had talked about this all too casually in Damen’s absence, had Damen’s cock on his mind a little more than he’d admitted. And now they were in Ios, and spring was on its way, and Damen had snuck out here because he could not deny himself any longer. Laurent might have just whined when Damen wouldn’t just /push in/, but he got what he wanted not long after.

His thighs protested for only a second at being spread so far without any gratification, but when Damen began to fill him as Laurent had so desired, he had no complaints left. Laurent had never found himself wanting of a cock so badly without a first orgasm to fog his mind, but Damen so deep inside of him felt like it had scratched an itch he’d had for far too long.

And it felt like he wasn’t trying to hold Laurent’s hand through this, which was quite welcome. Damen usually also needed that first orgasm and quite a bit of prompting from Laurent to be fucked like this, but Damen had just rushed him with unbridled desire. Laurent’s own cock was leaking already, and if he’d almost cum from the kissing, he was holding on with all he had now.

Laurent had one hand on Damen’s shoulderblade, all untrimmed nails and squeezing, with his other absolutely strangling the pillow behind him. Laurent was was openly gasping, groaning through his adjustment, soft and not-so-soft little sounds of pain and pleasure. He was not holding back in the slightest, which was new, especially surrounded by such thin walls and so many men.

_Show him you love him. Show him you desire him. No one is going to take him from you._

“ _Yes_ ,” Laurent panted in Veretian, hand sort of awkwardly patting Damen’s back to give him permission to do whatever he wanted.

* * *

Damen was too blind with lust to hesitate. He sat back, unsheathing himself from Laurent to turn him onto his belly. It occurred to some part of his brain that the tent walls were thin, that the camp was mostly quiet, but he didn’t care. None of those men had waited two weeks to se the man they loved, every night spent wanting him.

Once Laurent was in position, Damen lined himself up again, this time using a bit more control in pushing inside him this time. Even so, once he had bottom out again, he was through with waiting. He launched into a pace that had previously only been for their game, when Laurent was Soren and they had already fucked several times.

Something about Laurent’s comfort coming into this, his affection and willingness, his desire—Damen didn’t feel the need to hold back. He held tight to Laurent’s hips, fucking into him with abandon, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the tent along with harsh grunts.

It wasn’t the kind of fucking meant to last a long time--it was primal, fulfilling a need. Orgasm found him too quickly, but he had no chance of stopping it after going without sex for so long.

“Laurent—“ That was the only warning he got before Damen was doubled over him, spilling hot inside him. The force of it was staggering, and his vision swam momentarily as he fought to regain himself.

Outside the tent, Pallas stood red faced, trying to maintain his composure as several men stuck their heads out of their tents, searching for the source of all the noise. Even the tent closest to Laurent’s didn’t suspect it was coming from the king’s tent.

* * *

Laurent was not so skilled in holding out during a fuck like this. The only thing that kept him from spilling early was the fact that Damen had his hips at such an angle that he could not gain any friction on his cock to help him find release. His hands were also quite busy, tearing small rips with his nails in the pillow with his death grip, and he did not have the chance to touch himself for some time.

“Damianos—“ Laurent groaned lewdly, his lover’s name broken into syllables to match the force and cadence of Damen’s thrusts. His mouth hung wide open, turned to the side so not a single sound was muffled from his pleasure. It was pretty damning.

“Yes, /yes/—“

Damen spilled inside of him, warm and thick, and Laurent sobbed with his own release, but at least he managed to turn his head into the pillow when he did. He saved them from one large clue as to where the noise sounded from in the camp.

Laurent’s thighs trembled, nerves so alight that he could feel Damen’s release dripping down his skin specifically on his left thigh. He clenched around him sporadically, milking Damen for all he had while also riding out his own orgasm into his hand.

And soon, the only sound in the tent was the two of them panting, a little grunt coming from Laurent when his thighs gave out and sent them both down flat on the bed - a wet sound accompanied that.

Laurent was slick with sweat, his hair curled at the ends and stuck to his neck. His body felt like it was on fire, and he was so convinced he’d found some sort of elysium in it all, laid there beneath Damen, still catching his breath.

It sounded like Laurent tried to say something a moment later, but it only came out as another soft moan, and anything else that could have threatened to come out was trapped by him biting his lip, his eyes closed. He was so visibly blissed out.

He’d certainly been woken in worse ways.

* * *

Damen was utterly spent. He’d been waiting for that for _so_ long, and to have it now, the night before they were officially to meet was completely worth it. Tomorrow would be hours of making love, Laurent riding him slow and even while the sea breeze caressed them from the windows. But Damen had needed /this/ first in order to be remotely capable of waiting tomorrow.

He let out a grunt when Laurent’s thighs gave out, overstimulated. He lifted his hips to pull out, figuring it was probably best to let Laurent’s body begin to adjust without his cock still stuffed inside him.

He rolled off to his side, his curls damp and his legs trembling from the ride and from…that ride. Laurent looked no better, his body shining in the low light. The soft moan that left him made Damen want to mount him again, just to elicit more.

For awhile they simple laid there panting, and Damen heard a few noises around camp and realized that anyone awake had probably heard most of that. He doubted they would assume it was Laurent.

“Stay there,” Damen murmured as he sat up to find a cloth. He knew where they were simply from being Laurent’s attendant, and water wasn’t hard to find to wet it down. He cleaned himself first, then crawled back onto the mattress to pull the blanket from beneath Laurent, then began gentle strokes of the cloth to clean him of release. There was…quite a bit.

Once he was finished, he tossed the cloth aside and began kissing his way up Laurent’s side, his hands roaming where they pleased.

“You will be sore,” he murmured between kisses. He moved his mouth to Laurent’s ear. “I love those sounds you make for me.”

He settled down to pull Laurent onto his chest, nosing into his hair. /That/ was one of the best times they had ever had.

“Are you spent, sweetheart?” he asked, trailing a finger down Laurent’s spine. “I could take you apart with my tongue. That might help ease the soreness tomorrow. You will have to tell me how you feel before I whisk you to my bed. Our bed."

* * *

Damen’s decision to leave Laurent’s side was a bold choice, but Laurent settled down about it the moment Damen returned with the means to clean him. As uncomfortable as it was, Laurent was grateful, and he preened against the pillows like a cat when the act was finished, a sleepy smile on his lips.

He thought he’d been tired before.

He found his spot on Damen’s chest, curled up onto him and nuzzled at Damen’s collar, affectionate in a way that was not rare for Laurent, merely rare in this moment. These were usually the moments where Laurent said such terribly smart things, tried to bolster himself up and take control of these moments, show he was not susceptible to Damen’s cock. He did not waste the effort this evening.

“It will be a pleasant reminder of my first night back in Ios,” Laurent whispered, his lips placing soft kisses at Damen’s collarbone. Every once in a while, he’d scrape his teeth along Damen’s skin, unable to help himself.

“No soreness will hinder me.”

His kisses trailed from Damen’s collar to his neck, from his neck to his chin, and then to his lips where he kissed him languidly and freely. His fingers brushed Damen’s piercing, but he did not focus too much time there.

“I am sated,” he promised Damen. “At least for the evening.”

* * *

Damen was all too pleased to have Laurent nuzzling against him. He was just happy that Laurent had enjoyed himself so thoroughly, that he hadn’t been uncomfortable. He didn’t know if he would forgive himself if Laurent had any sort of discomfort from him. Especially during their first coupling since Arles.

He closed his eyes as Laurent’s lips traveled along his skin, warming and settling him in a way only Laurent could. He had seen horrific things in the wake of the earthquakes, had seen crushed limbs and bodies mangled worse than could be done on a battlefield.

Now as not the time to think about that. Now he had Laurent touching him, grazing his fingers over his piercings that he had to admit helped with stimulation there. Significantly. He shivered a little, but was then met with Laurent’s mouth.

“I supposed that is all I can expect after waking you,” he teased fondly. “I almost didn’t, you looked so peaceful. I’m glad you finally feel safe.” He met Laurent’s lips for another round of kisses, his fingers traveling the length of Laurent’s back, over the curve of his ass, down the back of his thigh and back up again.

“Sleep, darling,” he coaxed. “I have to leave soon, but I will see you tomorrow.” He stilled his hand, “And I’m not leaving yet, but there are only a few hours until dawn."

* * *

“Safe,” Laurent snorted, resting his head on Damen’s chest. “I was exhausted. This trip is not an easy one to make without you, and I can admit I might have pushed the men too hard.”

Laurent felt slightly foolish about it now, but how could he have known Damen would sneak to see him in the middle of the night? The errant rogue he was...

“Can you not ride into the city with me?” Laurent asked, and he moved his head like he wanted to nuzzle, but he didn’t have the strength to go lifting his head. “You could wear your cloak and...steal away for some...grand entrance.”

And ruin Laurent’s little plan of a public greeting, but what did he care now?

“I will be cross to wake without you, Damianos.” Laurent yawned, shifted, and then in almost a whisper he said, “My ass is sore.” And he /laughed/.

It was the last bit of anything he said before he drifted, his weight acting as a restraint on Damen, as if he would be heavy enough to hold him down, to keep him from leaving.

* * *

Damen napped as well, exhausted from such a vigorous coupling, but it wasn’t enough to make him sleep in. He could tell when his eyes opened next that it was time for him to go. He hated it—Laurent was warm and pliant against him, comfortable and soft in all of the ways that made him melt, but he had to return to Ios before he was spotted.

So he carefully moved Laurent onto the bed and kissed his cheek, covering him with an extra fur to make sure he didn’t get too cold in the morning chill.

Finding his clothes was a bit difficult, but he managed to dress himself and throw up his hood and cloak before he exited.

Lazar stood guard, and nodded once to Damianos as he headed off. Before he left, Damen decided not to pretend Lazar hadn’t heard.

“When Laurent wakes up, tell him I love him,” he said, flashing a grin when Lazar’s cheeks flushed red. “I will see you later."

His men were waiting, and it wasn’t until they were at a swift canter that one of his men, Orelius, a young man and likely future Kyros, turned to him.

“We, uh, heard you had quite the reunion with His Majesty of Vere.”

Damen was startled for only a moment, then grinned wide. “Yes, I did.”

_So they did hear._ The men laughed, but it wasn’t mean spirited, quite the opposite. They seemed…proud. And happy that he was happy, that he had made Laurent happy.

It was going to be a good day.

* * *

Laurent did a piss poor job of keeping Damen from leaving that early in the morning. He reached out and grabbed at him, but merely ended up making a fist and thumping it against Damen’s hip before it fell away.

“Leave before I ask you to stay,” Laurent murmured sleepily, knowing that - if he asked - Damen would stay. He had no doubts of it, and that was enough to make it okay. They would see each other again in a couple of hours. He could still sleep a bit more.

He didn’t, though.

Laurent was up and dressed before Lucien could even ask for permission to enter his tent. He had long since packed his own saddlebag, tied all of his own laces - with difficulty he had the time to tend to - and he was ready to go.

The camp was on something of a witch hunt to find out just who had been the culprit of all those noises last night, but most seemed to suspect Lucien, of all people. He was walking around with a telling little limp that Laurent managed to hide, but no one suspected the cold king in the first place. No one feasibly thought the king of Akielos had just travelled hours on horseback for a romp and then returned back to Ios to await arrival.

Laurent would not tell them otherwise.

“My darling,” Laurent greeted Ven with a smile and three pieces of apple, stroking her nose and placing his forehead to hers. “Promise me you will not startle at the sight of all those Akielon horses. I’ve an impression to make.”

He turned away from Ven just in time to lock eyes with Pallas who, instantly, turned the deepest shade of red Laurent had ever seen.

Laurent grinned devilishly and, before he could accumulate an audience, climbed atop Ven—

And oh, had Damen been correct.


	11. Chapter 11

Fynn was well aware of the drama by the time he slogged himself out of bed. It seemed his adventure the night before had given him something of a cold despite sitting by the fire when he returned. Someone, evidently Lucien, had been fucked senseless in the night. Fynn had actually woken to some of the noise and had been momentarily frightened that it was Laurent until he registered that it had been sounds of pleasure. Not Laurent, then.

He dressed himself for the day in an understated outfit of black velvet and gold thread, but decided against a hat. Akielons often felt they were stupid, so he didn’t want to put a damper on Laurent’s arrival by wearing something unfashionable.

“See? It wasn’t him,” a man said as he passed by with a crate.

“I’m tellin’ ya it was coming from the King’s tent.”

Fynn laughed. “His Majesty wouldn’t make a sound.”

Perhaps he shouldn't have said it, because the men glanced at each other and smirked as if saying ‘you would know.’ But they hurried off before Fynn could call them out on it.

Later when they departed the city, Fynn trotted Eleanor up to Laurent’s side, his grizzled morning face still plastered on.

“Heard an interesting rumor this morning,” he said as they rode—and Fynn really did enjoy being by Laurent’s side as a trusted friend. “A man insists last night's debauchery was coming from your tent.” His scowl lifted to a wry grin. “I had half a mind to let them believe it, but I know they would then assume it was me in there. So don’t worry.”

* * *

Even in the dregs of Winter in Akielos, Laurent’s Veretian cloak was almost too much. It warmed him considerably, heavy on his one shoulder where it laid, all blue and gold, decorated with an ostentatious starburst. His outfit was truly a whole thing devised out out of Charls’ mind to be a showstopper - and it certainly would stop the show if Laurent keeled over off his horse. Luckily, he seemed to have a well enough hold on that as well.

He turned his head when Fynn finally caught up to him, smiling at him - /smiling at him/. Laurent’s mood was that of barely contained sunshine, but he was definitely /trying/. So much so that he grinned when Fynn brought up the talk of last night, the /rumour/. Laurent could only conceal it so well.

“Rumours are second to time in ruining kingdoms,” Laurent said cryptically, his expression schooled save for one little upward twist of his lip on one side. Jord caught it, when he glanced to the side to see Laurent, sitting less than straight in his saddle. He was upright, still poised, but listing ever so to the left. He was uncomfortable, but you’d have to know him well enough to notice it.

“And what did /you/ hear? Laurent asked of Fynn. “Let me hear /your/ side of the rumor. As my advisor, I think it is the only one I should hear."

* * *

Fynn was glad he was mounted, or else he would have fallen on his face.

“Laurent!”

He was /smirking!/ /Smiling!/ He looked like a bride after her wedding night—no, a boy walking out of a brothel for the first time. Those noises—there was no /way/. Fynn just sat there slackjawed and staring. He didn’t understand. None of it made any sense.

“I woke up to some very loud moaning,” he said, tapping into more informal Veretian. “Someone having the type of fuck acceptable at a whorehouse or the goddamn barracks. Everyone is saying it was Lucien.” He glanced to Jord, but he didn’t seem to hear him. “But it /was/ you!”

His cheeks flushed now that he knew what Laurent sounded like in the throes of passion, those breathy cries, loud moans and he was pretty sure he heard what sounded like /begging/ at one point. Everyone had listened--it had been impossible /not/ to listen.

“Explain,” Fynn suddenly snapped, startling Eleanor the slightest bit. Damianos was in Ios, awaiting his lover who had promised to be true. But perhaps there had been someone else all along, or Laurent had let loneliness get the better of him—but those didn’t seem right. Then again, neither did Laurent having loud sex in the middle of a traveling camp.

Damianos would take one look at Laurent and know he’d been fucked senseless, and then he would see /him/.

“We are less than an hour from the city and I’m about to be piked—do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

* * *

“I know exactly what I’ve done,” Laurent assured Fynn, all too proud of himself as they neared Ios where Laurent would, undoubtedly, have a night just like last. He could smell the sea, could feel the air warming as they moved out from under the trees and into the morning sun. Laurent could see the fruit growing on the trees, could practically already taste them.

Akielos was so very different - truly like a paradise. The thin, gauze curtains, the breeze from the sea, the sound of the birds, of the waves, all from the inside of their pristine - yet simple - white buildings.

Yes, Laurent’s evening would be almost identical to last.

“It was my ruse all along to have you beheaded and displayed in Ios,” Laurent told Fynn plainly, his grin almost gone. “After, of course, I led everyone to believe you’d fucked me. I wanted war with both Akielos and Kempt, and I’ve done it. How crafty I am.”

And once he’d rolled his eyes over on Fynn and let that settle.

“Damianos would have approved wholly of my visitor last night, rumour has it,” Laurent told him.  
“Besides—“

Laurent nodded his head at Lucien, at the way he could not sit straight in his saddle either.

“For all they know, it was him.”

* * *

Fynn began to fume. This wasn’t something to joke about. “That isn’t funny,” he hissed. “At all.” No, currently Fynn wanted to hit Laurent over the head with a book. Maybe several times. After everything they had done and sacrificed to mend what had been broken, he did not understa—

_Oh._

It wasn’t Laurent who alerted him to the truth, it was Jord, who was fighting back a smile. That meant Damianos had actually ridden three hours from Ios to fuck Laurent and leave again. Fynn couldn’t even argue that didn’t sound like him—of /course/ Damianos would ride three hours for a tryst. 

“You’re an idiot,” Fynn muttered. “He’s an even bigger idiot. Do you both like to travel alone without guards? Thank God you can’t produce a child, it would run away the moment it could walk—probably right into the mouth of a lion.”

He dug his heels into Eleanor and she all to happily lengthened her stride to ride further ahead, closer to Pallas, who was noticeably quieter than usual. But of course, when Pallas saw him, he grinned. 

“Disapp—“

“Shut the hell up,” Fynn snarled. 

Pallas stammered for a moment, not having expected Fynn to be quite so sour. Jealousy was unrelenting, he supposed. “Fine then,” he spat in reply. “But be careful Damianos doesn’t see you so disappointed later."

* * *

Laurent had been having a time of it all - a good one, actually. Fynn was more than willing to talk about how inexperienced Laurent was in bed and how Damen certainly gave him no pleasure, but Laurent was not one to miss the way Fynn very much left his side when he heard otherwise.

Perhaps they were /not/ there just yet.

He watched Fynn ride ahead, but did not say so much as to stop him. Fynn clearly needed a moment that Laurent would give, and he would see how long it lasted - if it was something that would persevere through the next few hours or not.

Laurent cleared his throat, dropped his smile. It was not so exciting when he had no one to speak about his evening with. It was not like Laurent would go chatting to his men about it. The fact that he had let /Fynn/ in on it was really quite something, and would you look where that got him. All of Vere could fornicate in public and make pleasure a part of their personalities, and Laurent fucked /one/ man and—

Told the man who loved him about it.

It certainly tampered the fun of it all.

And just like that, Laurent had no one to talk to, no one to bide his time with.

He dug his heels into Ven and strode alongside Fynn and Pallas, unwilling to let /this/ ruin his day.

“How much further until we are in your city?” Laurent asked Pallas, pointedly looking between him and Fynn and…trying to discern what had just happened there.

* * *

Laurent didn’t stay out of his way for very long. Fynn was still angry—not about Damianos visiting, of course, but the fact that Laurent could be so callous about something so serious. Rumors did fell kingdoms, and something like this could have turned Akielos against Laurent if anyone had actually suspected the truth that the noises were indeed from his tent. 

“We will reach the entrance in an hour,” Pallas replied. “As for the palace…I am unsure how long it will take to get through the crowds. I have been told people were camped out along the trail last night.”

Fynn soured further. “Wonder how you found out such information.”

Pallas shot Laurent an unsure look. He wasn’t sure how to deal with a Herzog from another country in the company of a foreign king while on Akieon land. 

“I would say we’ll reach the palace in two hours, if I had to guess. But there will also be crowds outside the walls to contend with, and they might be harder to control."

* * *

“You will stay close to me, then,” Laurent told Pallas after a strong, disapproving look over to Fynn. “Your presence will ease any apprehension. We should have more Akielons on the perimeter, but not so obviously. Lazar—“

Laurent turned his head to look about, setting eyes on Lazar just a moment later just a few rows back.

“He should ride alongside you,” Laurent added to Pallas, because if nothing else, Pallas would watch the Akielons more closely if only to protect Lazar on the outside of the perimeter. Laurent did trust Pallas, as he had proven himself at Laurents side before. It was merely a necessary precaution. Jord seemed to catch on to the thinking and called Lazar up to be in just that position, solidifying one small wall of protection.

“I want only the Akielon to handle the crowd,” Laurent announced next, looking for Fynn for some sort of advisory here, but he could not say he expected it at the moment. “My men only need stay vigilant. If things turn for the worst, then we will get involved, but if it is merely slow moving, we can - and will - be /patient/.“

Slowing down a bit actually might be preferred just so Laurent could be worth something when he saw Damen again.

Only a few hours had passed, and it felt like a lifetime.

* * *

Fynn was upset, but not stupid. He put Eleanor right beside Ven as they approached the outskirts right on time. A crowd had gathered, and they burst into cheering when they caught sight of Laurent in all of his glory. Fynn did not like the size of the crowd.

Thankfully, the men of the caravan were smart and well trained, so they took up positions surrounding Laurent, keeping the citizens at bay. Pallas guided between waves and shouts of celebration—because the crowd was indeed happy.

They pushed their way into the city and confetti streamed from windows and walls. Flower petals rained so thick that it was hard to see the sun at certain points. Fynn had to be in good spirits then—it was a welcome that Laurent deserved.

Damen watched from the top of the palace steps as Laurent’s caravan approached. He wore a bright white chiton with fine gold embroidery, paired with a red sash and matching cape that hung to the ground with a small train. His laurel crown was made of actual laurels, the highest honor an Akielon king could bestow. His shoulder pieces were gold lion paws clawing at his chest with ruby claws, and his sandals were also gilded, shimmering in the late morning sun.

His skin had already darkened after weeks of hard work, his body glistening with a fine sheen of oil after a ceremonial bath to meet his betrothed officially.

He descended the steps when Laurent’s group stopped at the base and the crowd roared as more and more petals were thrown and swept up in the sea breeze. Damen was a glowing beacon of strength, pride for his people and country, one gold piercing on proud display, his fingers adorned with gold rings, but his eyes were only on Laurent.

There were quite a few steps to walk down—the palace of Ios was grand in every sense. Damen was most of the way down when he noticed a sturdy black horse beside a much smaller Ven and recognized the rider.

Damen’s smile turned close-lipped, and his pace froze for just a moment as he leveled his gaze on Fynn, who was already talking with the future Kyroi of Aegina, a striking fellow who seemed quite taken with him.

Laurent had ridden across the country with /Fynn/, who was supposed to have returned home to Kempt to await the wedding like everyone else, not show up in Akielos like a /prince/.

* * *

Laurent had never expected such a welcome. Never in his life did he expect to be greeted with…rose petals and cloth streamers, shouts and cheers. The whistles were expected - if not bold - but Laurent could appreciate those as well. Perhaps when his birth had been announced, he had received a welcoming such as this, but in his cognizant years he could remember nothing so…vast and positive. Not regarding him, anyway.

This was a welcome fit for Auguste, but for /him/?

Laurent almost had the nerve to be suspicious about it.

One group - a singular part of the vast cluster - was graced with Laurent’s real smile. For a flash of a second, he could not contain it. A welcome so grand, people excited for a union between two enemy kingdoms who had gone to war not ten years ago? He had to smile.

And he instantly had to affix himself into something more regal but welcoming, had to contain himself as he scanned the crowd once before setting his eyes straight to what he had come here for. It was not the people. It was not the land. It was the king.

Damen, dressed in his full regalia under the Akieon sun, was an image very different from the one Laurent had taken in last night. No longer swathed in a cloak, Laurent could see what just a few weeks back home could do for Damen. His smile was wider, his skin was darker, glowing. His hair seemed thicker, more attractively wild - probably from the high salt content in the water here along the sea. Damen looked amazing, like the sun itself - so much so that Laurent had to look away for a moment. It was all a little too bright here.

They grew closer and, shaded by the palace, Laurent could finally look at Damen properly and—

Try to decipher /that/ look.

Laurent went quizzical for a moment, had to physically move his head to see what had Damen so—

Ah. Right.

Fynn.

They reached the end of the road, and a crowd was cleared for Laurent to dismount. With all eyes on him, he made sure to do so without a misstep or a stumble, tried to stay as graceful as possible. It usually would not have been a problem, but with the persistent soreness in his ass, it was a little more work.

He lifted his eyes back to Damen, hoping he had since righted his expression and smiled because /there was all of Ios watching them/.

And he opened his arms to Damen, looking up at him as he knew these steps were designed for visitors to do.

They could talk about this later.

* * *

Damen did correct himself, donning a wide smile and pushing back thoughts of Fynn to the far reaches of his mind where they had continually haunted him since he had seen his lips touch Laurent’s. But that wasn’t going to ruin their moment. Not when Laurent looked to regal, so handsome, when the crowd was roaring for him, for his arrival alone.

He took Laurent into his arms to the cheers of the crowd and wrapped him up tight. Finally, they were reunited, and this time it was not just for a few hours. Laurent would never have to leave him again until after hey were wed, if then.

He tipped Laurent’s chin up for a kiss, meeting his lips with love and fondness not at all dampened by the night before.

“Welcome to Ios,” he greeted when they broke apart, thumbing Laurent’s cheek. Flower petals were so thick in the air that Damen felt as if they truly were alone for a few moments, enough time for him to take in Laurent’s features in full sunlight instead of dark lamplight. He was so beautiful. “You are breathtaking.”

He kissed Laurent’s cheek, holding him close as he looked out at Laurent’s camp. Another high ranking Akielon had taken up Fynn’s other side, openly admiring his velvet attire. Fynn looked pleased, but his gaze did wander.

Damen welcomed Laurent’s men and invited his attendants to show them where to stable their horses, discreetly avoiding greeting Fynn by name, though it wasn’t missed by the Herzog.

“Your Majesty,” Nikandros greeted with a bow. “Welcome. I trust your travel was without issue?”

When Nikandros spotted Fynn he suddenly understood why Damianos’s shoulders had been so tense (something he had learned to pick up on long ago).

“Your Grace,” he gritted out with a nod. “Allow me to show you our palace.”

Fynn bowed low in greeting to Damianos, then flashed a wide smile at Nikandros.

“I would be honored to have the Kyros of Ios show me the grounds, assuming His Majesty requires nothing further?”

“He doesn’t,” Damen supplied cheerily. “You may go."

* * *

Laurent could not have orchestrated a better meeting if he tried. He could not have envisioned the spring flowers, could not have guessed the size of their audience, and Laurent truly did not understand the grand scale of Ios well enough to properly picture the framing of their kiss. His last visit here had not exactly been a vacation, had not given him the chance to really take it all in.

Laurent had not heard cheering such as this since the Veretian army had last left Arles, the King and eldest son at its head, riding out to Marlas for Akielon negotiations that went very far south.

He let himself be wrapped in Damen’s arm, warm from the sun, and he kissed him over the sound of cheers that somehow grew louder. It was deafening. It was astounding.

He stayed close by Damens side, even when the kiss ended, not at all wanting to be parted from him now. He wanted Akielos to see him as Damen wanted him to be seen - but Laurent balanced that as he needed to. These were people who knew Laurent as the prince that would not leave Damen’s side after his brother had injured him. Laurent…wanted to stay in a good light with them, for he understood what a fine edge he was on.

That being said, he put on no front for Nikandros.

“Actually,” Laurent started after a nod of greeting, “A man somehow made his way into my tent last night. Took complete and utter advantage of me. Yea tall -“ Laurent held his hand level with Damen’s height, “Akielon, without a doubt, dressed in this terribly frightening cloak.”

He smiled again, looked up at Damen.

“Go on, Fynn,” Laurent did say with an approving little wave of his hand. “Enjoy Ios. I will call upon you only when necessary. Thank you for your protection.” Fynn deserved the celebrate the warmth and the people of Ios. He had not missed the Akielon men and woman who had gushed at Fynn merely upon their arrival.

* * *

Damen glowed with Laurent’s cheeky comments about someone sneaking in. It had been quite the feat, one he would gladly pull off again. Nikandros just rolled his eyes, already in on the ordeal, as he had been the one to calm fears from panicked attendants insisting that the king had gone missing. Not quite.

Fynn bowed once more before departing with Nikandros, several Akielon royals following behind them, trying to keep an acceptable distance as they whispered about the pretty Duke of Kempt.

“How sore are you?” Damen asked, both arms around Laurent now. “And you must be hungry, we can have food brought to us while we bathe, perhaps? Well, while you bathe. I must wait a day yet—part of the ceremony.”

Unofficially, he wasn’t to bathe until he’d fucked Laurent, but the kinder, more accepted term was to wait a full day after greeting his future spouse officially. "Most Akielon weddings occur over a week’s end, to tomorrow would usually be the day of our union. Exceptions were made in our case, of course. Usually they are not observed unless we are at war, but nonetheless.”

He took Laurent’s arm and began to lead him up the steps as their audience cheered. Wine was already beginning to flow for the next few days of celebration, and by nightfall Akielos would be a festival of lights and music.

“Perhaps you should rest a few hours—have yo been to our sea structures?” he asked. Laurent’s last time in Ios had been a whirlwind, and Damen hadn’t been conscious for most of it. “They are a wonderful place to lounge. We could eat there, but we may need furs, as the beaches are still cold."

* * *

Fynn departed, but Damen seemed to keep his good spirits, even as they parted from the crowd and moved into something more private, still arm-in-arm.

“You are practically at war with your own earth.” Laurent offered, noting that Ios remained more or less untouched. Perhaps a structure or so had fallen, but Laurent would not have known any different. He did not know the expanse of those quakes, but the capitol seemed unfazed by them.

“I would like to bathe, I think,” Laurent went on, “If it is not rude to do so.” He did not know of /his/ set Akielon rules for this union, did not know what was considered disrespectful or, even more so feared by Laurent, wrong.

“And I would love to see the sea. Well—“ He motioned just out the large, open thresholds that lined the outer edge of the palace. From up here, Laurent could see just the sea he hoped - and endless expanse of it, shining and sparkling before just a few hundred feet away. The air was fresher in Ios. Laurent smiled. “I would love to see it closer.”

So long as those seaside structures had covering from the sun.

“But tell me of what you’ve done these past weeks.” He reached up to push Damen’s hair out of his face, looking over his newly tanned skin. “You have clearly been in the thick of it - a king working amongst his men."

* * *

“It is not rude,” Damen assure him. “You have made a long journey, you are allowed to bathe.” But he reminded himself to make sure he didn’t assume Laurent knew the customs of Akielos. “In fact, I will not be permitted to join you, and you will have a ceremonial bath—is that acceptable?” he looked over at him. “Attendants will bathe you with our ceremonial oils. They will touch you, as required.”

Damen had no issue with it, but Laurent had…a less than clean track record concerning touching in the baths.

As they stood watching the sea, Damen took a breath. “There was much to repair. Many lives were lost, so there were many graves to dig and buildings to search through.” It was not enjoyable in the least, but he was glad he was able to provide some comfort.

“Thankfully the crop fields were not damaged for the most part, so we should be able to maintain crop yields,” he added. “It was not so bad, but I do think it was the right choice for me to go.”

He pressed a kiss to Laurent’s brow, holding him close for a moment.

“I’m so glad you’re here. Even if you brought /him./“

No, he had not forgotten.

* * *

Ceremonial baths.

Laurent could not say that that sounded like something he would find comfortable with at all. It was one thing when it was Damen, now that they knew each other, but before that, Laurent had very much proven being touched in any capacity was truly not his forte.

And he had /no/ idea what a ceremonial Akielon bath consisted of - had no idea just what that /touching/ would be. He knew, in many cultures including Veretian, how a bride might be prepped, and Laurent did not think he would allow that for himself.

Laurent had so little hair on his body already - he would hardly give up that which he had for some ritual that would usually involve a woman in his place.

“I will…try,” Laurent agreed, for he did want to follow tradition as he could, but some would simply need to be rewritten. Both in Akielos and in Vere.

He rested his head on Damen’s shoulder for a moment, taking a moment to just /enjoy/ Ios as it was. Even with what had happened outside of the city, Akielon thrived, and with the help of its king, would make it out in a way that allowed them to continue to do so. Damen had made the right choice, as much as Laurent had hated it.

It was not lucky what had happened, but still having crops and many lives and hands left to help with them was something to celebrate.

If they could get past /this/ little hiccup.

“He is my advisor, Damen,” Laurent reminded him on a sigh, not lifting from where his head comfortably rested. “He assisted in traveling me here safely."

* * *

“He’s still a herzog of Kempt, and should have returned home,” Damen muttered, but his voice had little heat. How could he be upset when Laurent was at his side and they were staring out at the sea together? Fynn was an afterthought, and Damen doubted he would have to see much more of him between Akielons wanting a piece of him and Nikandros playing guard dog.

He decided to change the subject back to the baths. “I will see that you are to be bathed as I was,” Damen said, rubbing Laurent’s back. “You’re washed, then oils are applied to your skin and hair that are wiped with a cloth but…” He glanced down at his body, still shimmering with oil. “You will be rather shiny when you return to me,” he chuckled.

He took Laurent’s hand and led him toward his living quarters, overjoyed to be surrounded by the sea breeze and high ceilings of home.

“I think it would be wise to do that first,” he said. "There are still some who are more conservative among the nobles who would take it as a compliment that you would bathe first before going about the palace.” He frowned. “Of course, we don’t have to listen to them, but for you to keep in mind."

* * *

“I’ll do the bathing,” Laurent murmured, letting Damen drag him for a second before he stepped in line with him. He vaguely remembered the halls from his last stay here, knew they were moving towards living quarters and that, just past those, were the baths. Laurent could not say he remembered those baths well, however. He probably new the slave baths better. During his short stay in Ios, Damen has been recovering and unable to fully bathe. Laurent had once, but he’d been taking to a guest bath for understandable reasons.

Going into a strange bath with strangers for a strange tradition did not sound /ideal/ to Laurent.

But it was better than talking about Fynn.

“Let them wash the dirty Veretian off me.”

Laurent caught himself nearly keeling backwards as they continued down the hall, his attention having been turned towards the high ceilings. Ios was so very spacious and airy, pristine and /simple/. Laurent had mocked it back in Arles, but now, he was all too interested to see the cultures clash and form into something new.

Vere on an Akielon scale would be...unbearable.

“Will it be women spit-shining me, then?” Laurent asked as they passed an open arch and into a vast sitting room, floor strewn with cushions, plants, rugs decorated with straight, clean lines that formed repeating, simple patterns. Large, gauze curtains, dyed red for the palace of the king, blew in the chilly spring breeze, and Laurent stopped to smell the sea again.

It was so very unlike Arles here.

* * *

Damen smiled. “And risk a bastard?” he teased. “No, it will be men bathing you.” Men who were very, very frightened to be doing so. It was as much an honor as a curse tobe asked to bathe the future husband of Damianos.

As they entered the sitting room, Damen paused to allow Laurent a chance to take it in. He was proud of his home, and sharing it with Laurent was a dream come true. Long ago this had seemed impossible—he had thought he would return to Ios alone, that Laurent might not have loved him at all.

Unfortunately, that seed of doubt remained after what happened in Arles, but Damen had simply been too happy to pay it any mind.

“Tomorrow I will show you the palace properly,” Damen assured him. “But I’m afraid today you will see the baths, the beach, and my bedchamber.” He led Laurent past the grand sitting room and into the more private area of his quarters - a study with archives of past kings and their journals, a courtyard with pillows and curtains to ward off insects while reading, a smaller sitting room with a gurgling pool in the center of the floor filled with colored rocks and golden fish.

Through another open corridor were the baths, were three attendants waited, their heads bowed low as though it were a sin to even look at Laurent.

“I will wait,” Damen murmured, leaning down to give Laurent a proper kiss. Before he pulled away, he kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear: “I would be a fortunate king indeed if you were to return to me undressed. I will be by the pool."

* * *

Ios was a lot to take in, and Laurent /wanted/ to. Damen waltzed him right past an indoor pond with colorful fish in it Laurent had never seen before. They looked pearlescent, some a bright orange, and he wanted to stop and stare, but Akielon wedding culture did not seem to include fish-gazing.

He did not mind the itinerary given to him, however. Bath, beach, bedchamber seemed like the perfect day after a long journey, but Laurent always had this affinity to push himself.

He would see it all tomorrow…

Laurent eyed the men who had been chosen to bathe him, and the moment he did, he instantly went steely. The shape of his face almost changed with it, from soft smiles and wide eyes, to harsh lines and a set glare. These men had done nothing to him out of term, and Laurent would see it stayed that way. Sometimes, intimidation was best.

“The /pool/?” Laurent asked, dropping his icy exterior for a second. Had they passed a pool? He had seen indoor pools in Sicyon, but not one here just yet. It had to be close enough to walk completely undressed to — but Laurent distinctly remembered the distanced he had walked nude in Sicyon.

Brave new world, and all that.

“Well,” Laurent motioned for this whole tradition to start, effectively making every one of the attendants jump into action.

That had been the response he was looking for.

And the poor men, who truly did their best, clearly had already heard rumors of Laurent’s anger. Every motion was respectful and hesitant, with permissions asked and heads bowed. They washed his hair, under his arms - pleases Laurent could very easily wash on his own, but he allowed it, holding back what little noise he might have made when their fingers tickled him. That would have blown his image.

Laurents mind wandered as he was bathed, mostly to assist in keeping himself from laughing. He had been so inebriated on excitement that, he realised, he had not yet asked about Korus, about Jokaste, about the child...

They reached a point in the bathing and oiling process where everyone began to dawdle, where there was an obvious air of apprehension, which Laurent did not much like, standing there completely bared and shining like a polished statue. It pulled him from his thoughts and left him staring at the men around him.

“What is it?” Laurent asked - almost snapped, but he thought that would be too much.

No one spoke for a moment, and Laurent really was about to snap, when the eldest of the three Akielons spoke.

“We not—“ He began in broken Veretian, and ah, yes, that would be a problem.

“In Akielon, then,” Laurent responded in their language, and almost all seemed to be put at some sort of ease.

“Your majesty of Vere,” the same man began in Akielon, a little more confidently now. “This is where we are…uncertain of what to do. Normally, this would….this would be where the women prepared the queen for bedding. For the king, we would supply him with oils for—“

Ah. Right. A slight change in tradition, then.

“I am sufficiently ready to be bedded by your king,” Laurent sighed, stepping just out of the circle of them. The small movement sent a strong waft of Akielon perfumes off of him, and oh, that was /very/ different for him. Akielon scents were much more earthy than the floral scents of Vere. “We can end this here.”

No one had the gall to refute him.

He was given a sheer shift to cover himself for the walk to the pools - just after his own hair was adorned with a laurel not unlike Damen’s, but not nearly as fine. It was for show, for appearances, but clearly intended to be removed and forgotten.

Well, he could only hope he did not slip on the way to the pool, which he found just a few moments later, not far from where he had been at all.

* * *

Damen disrobed in his chambers, happy to be free of his clothing in the privacy of his own room. it was a bit chilly with the wind off of the sea, but he didn’t want Laurent to feel uncomfortable in the nude after his bath—though he wasn’t sure that Laurent would actually return to him without clothing.

He sprawled in a pile of cushions as he waited, watching the screens as they flowed in the wind, white and blue and red. They cast colored light onto the cool marble and Damen watched as they danced in the breeze. It was so good to be home.

When he heard Laurent approaching, he turned his head to see one of the more beautiful visions he had ever laid eyes upon. Laurent, shimmering, a crown of laurels on his head and a sheer covering that hid nothing yet made him all the more handsome.

Damen held out his arms, pulling Laurent down onto his lap for a long overdue kiss.

“I didn’t think you could be more handsome, yet here you are,” he purred, running his hands up Laurent’s sides. His skin was smoother than he was used to, and his scent was startlingly Akielon. “Have you killed anyone?” he asked. “None of my attendants are dead?"

* * *

/There/ Damen was, just as bare as Laurent, but not nearly as shiny.

Laurent slipped right into Damen’s lap, grateful for the closeness, the cover of Damen’s much larger nude body around his. Laurent felt like a poorly wrapped present that had just been handed off through a waterfall of oil, but Damen did not seem to mind - even /enjoyed/ it. It could not be /so/ bad then.

He wound his arms around Damen’s body, moved his hands up until his fingers could push into Damen’s hair, could wind in the curls. They kissed for a long moment, and Laurent was momentarily overwhelmed with /Akielos/. The sound of the not-so-distant seashore, the smell of sandalwood and leather and salt spray, the /warmth/ of one of its greatest, there in his arms. It was heady, intoxicating. Laurent took it all in.

Well...not /all/ of it.

Yet.

“None yet,” Laurent assured Damen in regards to his attendants. “The poison from my barbs takes time.”

Laurent turned out to look at the pool for a moment, very aware he could not go in it, lest he undo that entire little ceremony. What he’d gotten of it anyway.

“Your men did their best,” Laurent reassured Damen, one hand running confidently up Damen’s chest now. Laurent was just /touching/ him, whenever he could, wanted nothing more than to be close to him now, even in a wide open room like this one. “I think after waiting the twenty-odd years for a queen, there was a bit of an incident of ‘broken expectations’ within the bathing chambers. I’ve a few different parts than a Queen.”

But he looked just as lovely in a shift and a laurel.

* * *

Damen very much appreciated all of the touching. It was still new to him. Laurent touched him before, of course, but not with this kind of frequency, like he thought it was important to keep hands on him as much as possible. Damen knew the feeling. He kept up his end of things by running his hands up and down Laurent’s sides, over his ribs and down to his hips, marveling at the softness of his body.

“I am sure they were thankful,” he chuckled. “You frightened them just by looking at them - I think if they tried to go between your legs they wouldn’t have heads when they returned, hm?” He met his lips for a kiss, long and sweet. “I loathe that any of them were able to see you in this, however. I would have loved to have this as mine alone.”

He moved his touch down to Laurent’s thighs, letting his hands wander where they pleased as he started another long stretch of kissing, gentle and wanting with a simmering kind of heat only possible because they’d fucked so vigorously the night before. Otherwise Damen would have bedded Laurent before he had a chance to go to a bath.

“Here?” he asked, palming the curve of Laurent’s ass. “Or should we walk to the sea? Decide quickly, I would rather not walk to the water half hard."


	12. Chapter 12

Last night had most definitely been needed, and had done well to clear Laurent’s head. Lust was so rare in him - especially lust so strong - but night of talking about Damen, if discussing the way he made love to Laurent had stuck in Laurent’s mind, had left him yearning. So much so that he’d alerted a whole camp to his presence. His mind had been so fogged, so cloudy, and no that he could think a bit more straight, he could more easily choose just what he wanted to do now in Ios. Especially on such a traditionally important day.

“The sea,” Laurent replied without a second thought, nipping at Damen’s lip and tugging playfully. Not a moment after he’d let go, he’d stood up, hand out to help Damen rise. Laurent wanted to be by the sea, wanted this traditional whatever it was to happen somewhere so beautifully Ios. He wanted to embrace his new country, even if it could be considered chilly by the ocean. He wanted the view, the air, the new memories.

“Let me experience Ios outside these walls,” Laurent told him, adjusting the silken shift over his shoulder. “Take me by the sea. Come on.”

It would be a truly Iosian experience, and Laurent needed more of those, especially for their first anticipated meeting here in his own future kingdom. He wanted something exclusively Akielon, wanted to respect their culture, their traditions, as well as make their own.

And taking a nap by the sea side - which he would undoubtedly do after - sounded not too unlike their stay in Sicyon, which Laurent longed for almost any time he thought of Damen.

Laurent wanted Damen’s hands on him in the open, unwavering and uncaring of others. He wanted to be taken by Damen - again - as they had last night, but without the need to hide, without the need for secrecy.

And the rumours it could start would not hurt Laurent’s image here.

He held Damen’s hands to his hips with his own oiled palms, stepped backwards and brought Damen with him. Laurent did not know the layout well enough to lead, but he at least knew which way the sea was, which he tried to navigate to all while not taking his hands off Damen’s body, without staying off his lips for more than ten seconds at a time.

Perhaps he was not as clear-headed as he thought.

* * *

Damen had not ever had such a troublesome walk to the sea, but he wasn’t complaining. Laurent clearly had not gotten his fill of being fucked the night before, and Damen was all too happy to put his hands and mouth all over him as they made their way down to the sand.

The structures that had been build were from Damen’s suggestion of a place that he could go with Laurent without worrying about the sun damaging his fair skin or overheating him in the sun. Sheer curtains hung on a three-wall cabana shaded with canvas pieces that allowed wind to pass through. Large cushions made up the floor, piled with smaller pillows for added comfort.

Damen didn’t even allow Laurent a proper look before he was falling back into the pile, dragging Laurent with him.

He pulled Laurent’s hips into his lap, rocking his half-hard cock up against him for friction as his mouth found Laurent’s nipple. It wasn’t a place he stimulated often, but he couldn’t resist reddening the pink skin there.

The breeze was stronger here, and the hiss of the waves occasionally sprayed then with a slight mist of saltwater.

Damen wasted no time grabbing oil, hastily slicking his fingers as he found Laurent’s lips for sloppy, needy kisses. He tugged his bottom lip as he pushed a finger inside him, humming his approval when he felt that Laurent wasn’t as tight as he had been the night before.

“You’re swollen,” he murmured between kisses. He curled his finger. “Does that hurt?”

As much as he wanted to fuck Laurent senseless, he didn’t want to injure him during their first coupling in Ios.

* * *

The spray of the sea had been much warmer the last Laurent had seen it, but he did not mind it so much now. Even in the early spring, the sun was warm, the breeze was welcome. The sand did not burn his feet, and Laurent wished he’d had a moment more to feel it under his feet before he was brushed off of them.

Sand stuck to his feet.

He’d not even the time to properly take in their little structure before they were kissing, headily, and Laurent groaned openly right into it. The sea did something to him, gave him a rush of endorphins, a feeling of freedom he did not usually have. The sound of the surf, the hiss of the sea him such an energy, it was as if he was sea nymph or something similar, taking power from it. It was like it washed away inhibitions he’d brought from Vere, let him /be/ by the side of her vastness.

There was also something just as exciting about being together out here like this as it had been last night in secret. Laurent quite liked the change to their usual coupling in Arles’ baths, in his bed. The scandal, perhaps. They were not at all in public, per se, but if someone with the proper right to do so came calling, they would very easily be caught like this.

Laurent /liked/ being outside, liked the scandal of it, the thrill of potentially being seen with his Akielon husband-to-be.

Call it the Veretian in him.

But he also liked that it was unlikely, that there would be speculation of it, talk amongst the people. Both Akielon and Veretian, now, for he was in /Ios/! By the /sea/!

He gasped as Damen took his nipple, rolled his hips right into Damen’s in something of both surprise and enjoyment. He only did it again when Damen slipped a finger into him so easily and, yes, he’d told the men at the baths he was sufficiently prepped for Damen, but he’d also not been expecting to have him again /so/ soon. It was a touch uncomfortable at first, but it faded just as quickly. Laurent had not even shown the discomfort on his face.

Laurent reached behind him and reassuringly pushed Damen’s hand, effectively deepening the reach of his finger while murmuring, “You won’t hurt me, darling,” in an absolutely filthy tone, his eye contact unwavering from Damen’s. Even as his own finger brushed his swollen, hot rim, he knew it would not be bad. Just knowing he was so swollen from his lover’s cock the night before almost eliminated the discomfort immediately.

* * *

Laurent was going to be the end of him. Damen’s pupils blew wide at his filthy tone, something so absolutely Veretian and stark in contrast to the calmer Akielon voices he’d been listening to over the past few weeks. He could feel the energy coursing through his betrothed and Damen very much liked the view.

He didn’t waste much time in wetting his cock, though he did so thoroughly to help avoid any pain. More oil was applied to Laurent’s entrance, and it wasn’t long before Damen could feel need overpowering his ability to wait.

“Ride me,” he begged, lost in lust as he gazed up at Laurent, shining and golden above him, his hair tousled from sea wind and salt spray.

He helped spread Laurent’s legs wider and moaned softly as his cock began to ache.

“As hard as you can,” Damen urged. “It feels good.” He mouthed at Laurent’s nipple again, this time running his tongue over the pebbled skin. “I think you would enjoy it.”

And he would /love/ to watch Laurent fuck himself on his cock, desperate and needy for release.

* * *

Laurent’s whole body would hate him after this, but truthfully all he could anticipate in his future was a nap. He would deal with the consequences after that, and then, with the both of them sated and spent, they would actually catch up on all the things that had plagued Laurent in the baths.

But first, he would see to the need plaguing at him. Best to go forward with a clear mind, after all.

Damen may have been foolish let Laurent gauge the pace of his riding. Laurent had too much energy coursing through him to take it slow, to tease as he usually would. It should have been apparent the moment he didn’t hesitate to seat himself on Damen in one fell thrust, trusting the stretch from last night to bottom him out easily.

For the most part, it worked.

He made a small broken noise that could have been alarming, his mouth wide open, eyes clenched shut, but luckily for Damen, he broke into a breathless little laugh after, his fists clenched at Damen’s chest, back arched and hips moving the smallest bit in hopes of opening himself a little more where he lacked.

“As hard as I can, huh?” Laurent breathed, smiling wide, very clearly in a place of euphoria with Damen inside of him /here/. The sea rushed behind them, the fizzing and hiss of sea foam crackling just a few yards away. The breeze flitted through the gauze curtains, sent them moving about, sent sunlight streaming in momentarily from the cracks the moving curtains created. It streamed over Damen, caught on the gold of his piercings.

He looked so handsome.

Laurent could not clearly say what had come over him, but he was more than happy to chase desire he’d not openly felt in a long time. Perhaps it was being so far from Arles, this celebratory first day at Ios, the freedom of being away from their men - Laurent didn’t know. All he knew was that he.../wanted/. And how lovely it was that he could /have/.

What started as mere rocking of his hips finally turned into proper riding, and Laurent did not hold back. It was as if Lamen had Soren again, but there were no gaudy jewels to hide behind, no tavern walls to hide their true identities if Laurent called out the wrong name—

And there was no wrong names. When Laurent moaned, he moaned for Damen by name, and without hesitation.

The issued challenge certainly had not helped.

For weeks, Fynn had mocked Laurent’s sexual prowess, had likened him to a virgin with no experience. Damen had just given Laurent a chance to prove himself at something, and he took it very seriously. ‘As hard as he could’ ended with him taking it like a proper pet, unable to keep himself from mewling and groaning as he ground down on Damen, then bounced on him freely, straight-backed and perfect-postured, even when his movements stuttered from time to time when Damen’s cock found that bundle deep inside of him that made him see stars.

* * *

Damen had to say he didn’t expect Laurent to sit right down on his cock like a well-traveled pet. Damen’s eyes flew wide, and he let out a sharp sound himself. The move overwhelmed him with pleasure, but was shocking enough that for a moment he simply chuckled right along with Laurent.

“Yes,” he said, his hands moving to Laurent’s hips. “As hard as you can.”

He should have expected Laurent to take him seriously, should have remembered he was a Veretian, but Damen was still caught off guard when Laurent began fucking him like a proper whore. It was…everything. Laurent making loud, lewd sounds, Damen growling out his own curses and moans as he fisted the curtains, tearing one as he did so. He didn’t even have to move his hips as Laurent rode him hard, bouncing on his cock like he’d been bred to do it.

And what a sight he was, cheeks pink and lips red and parted, glistening in the sunlight. Damen remembered to take hold of Laurent’s cock, damp from leaking already, and pumped him toward completion.

Damen couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so helpless against his pleasure, and it brought sounds from him that were new even to his ears.

“Please, there—“ he moaned, tipping his head back as Laurent found the perfect angle on his shaft. His lashes fluttered, and he only had time to grip Laurent’s thigh in warning before he orgasmed with enough force to blur his vision as he let out a broken shout.

_Fuck._

* * *

Of all the people expected to beg during this, Laurent would not have bet money on Damen. Not with the way he was bouncing, not with how deep Damen was inside of him. Laurent had hit a point of being absolutely overwhelmed by pleasure, yet /Damen/ was the first to beg.

Laurent nearly sobbed, it was so perfect.

The head of Damen’s cock absolutely beset Laurent’s prostate, and his thighs shook with total lack of control. At this point, he was punishing himself as much as he was pleasuring himself, lost in a haze of excitement. He chased the blinding euphoria of Damen deep inside of him, the slide and stretch of every quick thrust.

And as Damen took his cock in hand, /Laurent/ nearly thought to beg.

The sounds of the waves drowned out what noises Laurent did make - breathy pants that pitched as he neared his release, gasps and mons of the Veretian ‘Yes, /yes/!’ He looked like an absolute whore- even more so when Damen spilled inside of him and Laurent outright ordered, “Fuck it into me. Give me all of it.”

It was the one moment of strength he had before he dissolved, rhythm breaking and stuttering as he felt himself filled, as he tried to thrust into Damen’s hand for release.

And when he did, it was with an actual sob that shook his body. His fingertips dug into Damen’s shoulders as he cried out, somehow still sitting upright with his back drawn tight, his head tossed back, his ass still perfectly displayed. His cum splashed wet onto Damen’s chest, his neck, his jawline while Damen’s coated Laurent’s insides, warm and /greatly/ appreciated.

Aftershocks took Laurent, and he could not help but fold in on himself as he shot another little spurt of cum onto Damen, this one much smaller than the last. The third was mostly dry.

And where he usually would have come down from his orgasm with a joke, Laurent could only pant, could only try to catch his back, still hunched uncomfortably over Damen as he tried to regain himself from.../that/.

* * *

Damen had never seen Laurent like this. Something in him had come undone, the last of his walls finally torn down in the heat of lovemaking. Damen was honestly a bit frightened of it given that his cock was at the mercy of Laurent’s unbridled energy. Every thought of Laurent as virginal was gone with the way he rode him.

Damen came with force, pinning Laurent’s hips to better fuck into him as orgasm overtook him, as Laurent demanded more. That was new, and he shivered with the pleasure of being called to such a filthy task.

Laurent came harder than Damen remembered ever experiencing, but usually it was not something he experienced so intimately. “So much to give,” he purred, his eyes dark with desire even after his release.

He noticed when Laurent stopped moving, and though he loathed to pull out from Laurent so tight and hot around him, he needed to take care of his beloved who had very much earned it.

Damen sat up from the cushions and gently guided Laurent to rest on a pile beside him, then used the back of his hand to wipe the cum from his jaw. How eager Laurent had been.

He crawled to the edge of the cabana where he’d fetched the oil, this time retrieving a warm, wet towel from a small basket to clean himself off before doing the same to Laurent with gentle strokes. Of course, he couldn’t help but put his mouth to Laurent’s navel, kissing his way up his chest, his throat, his jaw.

“I love you,” he murmured, tossing the cloth side as he gathered Laurent in his arms. His eyes were already closing, his body aching pleasantly with aftershocks of his own. “I think that may have made our top five,” he said with a nibble to Laurent’s ear. “So loud and eager, sweetheart. All of Ios knows who you share a bed with now."

* * *

And maybe that's what Laurent had been after.

He definitely blushed red with embarrassment when he was laid down, having been completely in it at one moment, and then experiencing all the fun of coming down from that lust. His chest was heaving, and he felt very exposed, which was a silly way to feel with Damen by his side, but even he could admit that he had just done a /lot/.

But he /had/ wanted everyone to know who he was with. He wanted people to know that Damen had chosen him and he had chosen Damen, and…that he wasn’t some virginal kid. He’d been pulled away form Arles, finally free in a way he’d not felt before, and he’d /wanted/.

And now he had to deal with that want.

Damen though, he helped more than Laurent could say. Without the character of Soren to hide behind, that had all just been Laurent, and Damen did not seem to mind. He still seemed attracted to Laurent, did not seem to think less of him, and had clearly enjoyed it.

Even after something so wonderful, Laurent could not help but to say, “Do not expect it to be like that every time. My body could not take it.” And through he made it into a light and intimate joke, he simply did not want the precedent set.

He sank into Damen’s arms, burrowed right up into him, thankful for his heat against the cool sea breeze, especially as the sweat began to cool, as his heart began to find a normal pace. Damen was also the perfect size to hide in, but Laurent…didn’t. He still could call himself embarrassed, but…well, he supposed he’d not done anything wrong. He had certainly showed his love for Damen. On a beach. Surrounded by no one. Hadn’t he?

“It was not /so/ bad, I think, for a…traditional…” Laurent cocked his head, suddenly perplexed. “What was this, technically?” He asked, looking up from Damen’s chest to his jaw - where he had definitely missed a spot of Laurent’s release. Laurent reached up to swipe it away. “Was this consummation? Or just the gifted evening with the queen-to-be? Or was this just your device to bed me before I could do anything else?"

* * *

Damen was still quivering from pleasure as he took Laurent into his arms, shielding him from the cool spray of the ocean as their sweat dried and the haze of their coupling began to turn to exhaustion. Laurent had been trough a morning of riding…of all sorts, it seemed. They would need to eat soon, though Damen was sure attendants were searching for them with platters already in hand.

He laughed at Laurent’s question. “The latter, definitely. Normally we would not be in bed together until after our wedding, so this is entirely outside of tradition. Though technically we’re allowed to bath now that we’ve consummated our promise to each other. I suppose in some since that means we are marred in the eyes of old Akielon gods.”

But not to their kingdom, or to the eyes of anyone in either kingdom.

He took Laurent’s mouth in a kiss, thumbing lovingly at his cheekbone. “And not so bad?” he said only a breath away from Laurent’s lips. “I could not have asked for a better way to welcome you to Ios. You were perfect.”

The sun was warming the sand, giving Damen enough warmth not to shiver as he held Laurent to his chest. It was wonderful to be away from the people, no longer surrounded by questions and nobles.

“I will have Leopold mix a salve for your swelling,” Damen said decidedly after a moment, his voice already sleepy. “I cannot have you uncomfortable in such a way."

* * *

Well, married in the eyes of the gods certainly had to mean something. Laurent quite liked that, even if there was very little mortal stock in it. It was a nice gesture, anyway. One that Laurent did not have much energy to think about.

He made some sort of noncommittal noise when Damen mentioned a salve and could not picture a world where anyone, including himself, would be putting that on him to walk around with. The swelling would go down on its own. Pets made it through without salves all the time, and Laurent, though a king, would not be more needy than a pet.

“You could not…” Laurent started, clearly on the verge of some beautifully crafted retort, but his exhaustion from many, many long rides would not allow it. He drifted to sleep absolutely smushed against Damen’s chest, but he did not have the wherewithal to care about that. He was warm against Damen, backed by the surprisingly calm sounds of the sea, and he was /out/.

And he could have slept until nightfall were it not for an aggressively cawing gull that began its screaming just a few hours later by their little shelter.

Laurent poked his head up, swaying, and blearily stared at the bird, who stopped for a moment, and then started again, only this time it was wise enough to scuttle down the shore a little further.

Laurent felt hungover.

He planted his head back down on the cushions, groaned something or other into Damen’s chest as he rerooted himself there. His whole body ached, though he could pinpoint most of the aching where it made sense for his recent activities.

“You cannot make me walk back to the palace,” Laurent grumbled from his safely burrowed spot.

* * *

Damen stayed awake awhile longer, smiling down at his sleeping lover. he remembered their second time in the Vaskian came, how he had been beside himself with joy simply being able to sleep a foot from the prince he had developed feelings for. Now that man was going to marry him, and he fell asleep in complete peace and comfort in Ios, a kingdom that would soon be both of theirs.

He did fall asleep not too much later, his arm protective around Laurent, his lips pressed to his forehead.

The gull didn’t wake him as much as Laurent did. He muttered questioningly when Laurent moved so quickly, but other than that he merely laid there while Laurent figured out nothing was wrong. Damen stirred slightly after Laurent nuzzled back against him, feeling around off the edge of the cushions for a bell. When he couldn’t find it he groaned, sitting up himself. They needed food.

He called out for an attendant and was not disappointed. A young girl ran to them, bowing her head out of respect for their nakedness.

“The king and I want our meals brought here,” Damen instructed. “Along with a pitcher of water and juice. Quickly.” His throat was already too dry.

The girl scurried away, and Damen retreated back to the comfort of the cushions, wrapping his arms around Laurent again. “I will carry you back,” he murmured finally. “You won’t have to move at all if you don’t choose to."

* * *

Mm,” Laurent mumbled noncommittally again, still tucked in Damen’s chest.

That attendant could officially be considered the luckiest girl in Ios. She would be popular when she returned to the palace, when many flocked to her to get all the information of what she’d just seen. What were they doing? What did they look like? What did they ask for? Was the Veretian king cruel?

Laurent almost felt bad for not addressing her at all.

“What will the people say if I let you carry me?” Laurent rasped, his voice just as shot as Damen’s. “My first day in Ios and I must be carried like a child?”

A child.

_Child._

Laurent’s mind went right to it, to the infant here in Ios and its mother, to the teenager he’d sent here what felt like ages ago.

Just like that, he felt all the more hungover. Responsibilities could do that.

“How is Cosmas?” Laurent asked quietly, turning his head away from Damen’s chest to look up at him. He did not want Damen to think this to be snarky or pointed, so he made sure to do his best to sound /soft/. Laurent felt it only right to ask, as they would have to address it at some point. It might as well be here, by the sea, still tangled in each other after.../that/.

* * *

Damen was still too blissed out to be offended by the question in the slightest. “Cosmas has grown,” he boasted. “He has already taken an interest in wrestling and horses. Just he other day I put him on Nikri and he rode as though he had been doing so for years. It was quite a sight.” Chubby legs barely able to bend over the curves of Nikri’s sides. He had been thoroughly entertained by the sight while making sure his nephew didn’t fall.

“I think I will take him on a short ride soon—he will sit in my lap, of course.” He loved Cosmas dearly—he was the closest thing to a son that Damen could have—potentially forever.

“Jokaste sees him occasionally, but we are careful not to let them too close. She worries me still. Nikandros continually rotates the guards who are most fond of men so that they are not tempted. She is still the most dangerous thing in our kingdom, I suspect,” Damen said, running his fingers through Laurent’s hair.

The kitchen had evidently been waiting for their call, because servants arrived with several platters. Damen instructed them to leave them on the tables and leave them be. He didn’t want anyone getting more than a glance at Laurent’s naked body.

“You must be starved. Eat and drink, my love. I instructed the cooks to spare no expense in making you happy. Whatever food you would like we’ll find it for you. Whatever drinks as well."

* * *

Halfway into Damen’s story, Laurent found his cheeks hurting, and it was only then he realised he’d been smiling. He couldn’t help it. The idea of a tiny child on a horse the size of Nikri, tucked into Damen’s lap was incredibly cute. And dangerous. Perhaps even more so than Jokaste.

“She should see him while he is still young, before he can forget her,” Laurent said to Damen, perhaps too boldly, as food began to arrive behind them. He peeked over his shoulder, grateful for his well-placed sheer fabric for at least those who stood behind him after however Damen had left him looking.

He hoped he physically had as much dignity as he gave off in spirit.

Without so much as turning his body, he went for an odd-angled reach you a plate of fruit, pulling a fresh apricot right from the platter. Summer fruits. Laurent missed them dearly back in Arles, and he would finally have the time to stave off his craving.

“And how is Korus?” Laurent asked, somehow managing to eat the whole apricot without stickying his fingers. He went in for another, followed by a strange purple fruit he’d never seen before. Then, it was a piece of flat bread, topped with some sort of oil and baked with some sort of herb. “An absolute scoundrel, I presume?”

Laurent could imagine the boy as all who had been in his position: haughty, spoiled, and villainous. Korus was probably not the shining example of the Veretian spirit that Laurent should have sent, but Ios would be good for him in the long run. Laurent knew that.

* * *

Damen went straight for the figs and bread, piling on smoked meat and cheeses. He was starving too, and he figured he could finish off a full platter on his own.He enjoyed watching Laurent eat so happily—summer looked good on him. Ios looked good on him. He truly belonged here.

“He is starting to act Akielon,” Damen chuckled. “I spoke to his teacher - he isn’t beaten so easily anymore. He is doing well with a sword for a boy with no prior training. He is more confident, I think.”

To be honest, he had only seen Korus a few times, and only spoke with him to hand off the letter from Laurent, a gift that had earned him many jealous glares from the other boys. He liked to think that Korus was learning that the life of a pet wasn’t necessary, that he could find strength in himself as a soldier or perhaps another trade.

“I am sure he gets up to all sorts of trouble out in the field,” Damen said around another mouthful of smoked meat. “But instructors are used to boys who misbehave. I can say I think he has been beaten enough times by his peers that he is not so spoiled, but I did not spend much time with him.”

“When it comes to Cosmas, I fear that allowing him too much time with Jokaste will help her execute some plan, or perhaps convince him to hate us. I don’t think it would be good for him to become close to her only to be torn away."

* * *

It was sweet that Damen saw some greatness in Korus, but Laurent did not comment any further on it. He was the one boy Laurent did not know well enough to gauge what kind of person they might be - what they could have been. With Nicaise, Laurent knew just how smart he was, just how cunning and wise. He’d had a lot of potential in Vere, could have possibly ended up in Laurent’s court down the line. Laurent would have trusted him more than Mathe.

The same went for Aimerick. The boy had been so fiercely loyal, clearly had a good heart underneath whatever he had been put through.

Laurent sipped his water washing down whatever had just tried to tighten his throat.

But if Korus was beginning to act more Akielon, than he already had a better chance than any of them.

Cosmas, however, Laurent did have thoughts and comments on.

“It’s his mother,” Laurent murmured, picking at the bread in his hands. “She is dangerous, yes, and there is the option of her turning the child against you, but…” It went against all of his previous thinkings and concerns on this, but what could he say? Laurent honestly thought /he/ could change that.

“Perhaps if I spoke to her and we came to an agreement, she could still raise the child just…quite far from here. In no relation to you.” But more importantly, /far away/.

It was not the first time Laurent had offered Jokaste a kindness she might not have deserved.

* * *

“Jokaste would poison his mind,” Damen said sharply. “She is allowed to see him a few days of the week, only because she is his mother.” And he absolutely would not have Lauren meeting with /Jokaste/ for any sort of deliberation on anything. Cosmas was still a babe, not yet old enough to make his own decisions, so Jokaste could not influence him just yet.

“You have no need to speak to her,” Damen said matter-of-factly as he took a date to eat. “She spends her days in a prison cell with no visitors, as she should. Cosmas will learn someday what she did to this kingdom, and I hope he will see that her punishment is generous for what she has done.”

Kastor would have put her to death, surely.

Damen pressed a kiss to Laurent’s cheek. “Besides, if she saw you she would only cause trouble. She does loathe you for stealing me away, and I have no interest in you seeing her. It would only bring trouble.”

He figured that Laurent would stay at his side for the next few days, basking in their love for each other, exploring Ios together as they should have done on his first visit. there was still so much to show him, and now they finally had the time.

“Do you think our wedding will be ready in time?” Damen asked absently. “I feel as thought we’ve scarcely prepared anything, but perhaps that is not our job as kings. How do you feel about it?"

* * *

  
Laurent had dealt with Jokaste before, and he’d almost enjoyed their conversations. No, he /had/. She was so intelligent, so sharp - a Veretian mind along Akielons, truly. Laurent had no doubts the only reason she was prisoner in Akielon was simply because she wanted to be. Like he usually did, she planned for things leagues ahead, and Laurent could only assume she had something up her sleeve, some game she wanted to play.

And Laurent genuinely did not want to take her child from her. If anything, it made more sense for her to have that child than Damen. Laurent had not even wanted Cosmas raised in Akielos, thought he should have been sent far away the moment Damen had his kingdom back. The boy could have been chartered to a wealthy family anywhere, raised as one it theirs, never had to know about any of this. /That/ would have been safe.

He took a date right from Damen’s fingers and took a bite from it.

He would leave the conversation be.

For now.

“A wedding is just a ceremony,” Laurent reassured Damen, touching a sticky thumb to his own lips and licking the date juice from there. “So long as it is observed and accepted by both our people, I hardly care for the planning. I do not need some elaborate event to show I mean this.”

He kissed Damen softly, held it for a moment before pulling away and, ever so softly, admitting aloud:

“But the Veretian stuck within me does enjoy a bit of a spectacle.”

* * *

Damen accepted the kiss with warmth in his heart, swiping his tongue along Laurent’s bottom lip to taste the remnants of his date. He had to admit that it was quite sweet, and he very much enjoyed it, just as he enjoyed being able to gaze down at Laurent’s naked body, not hidden by furs or sheets.

“It will be a spectacle,” Damen chuckled. “There had been people in Marlas for months now, putting everything together. Our people will celebrate the day as much as we will.”

He plucked a winter grape form the plate and popped it in his mouth. “But I am not looking forward to after the ceremony,” he muttered. “How many people must be there? What is the custom?” He pressed a kiss to Laurent’s brow.

“Is the idea that I pleasure you, or simply that we consummate our marriage?”

With Veretians he could only imagine that there had to be theatrics involved.

* * *

“I should hope to be pleasured,” Laurent responded as he rolled onto his back, let his hand fall across his chest. He looked down his body to the sea just beyond their little shelter, watched the waves roll onto the shore.

Truthfully, he did not like talking about the ceremony any more than Damen did. It was antiquated and /so/ Veretian in its practice, but he was already asking his people to accept a marriage unable to produce an heir, asking them to accept an Akielon king, a marriage between two men. He could not also ask them to ignore the one practice they had that actually sealed the union of marriage historically.

Besides, it would only be shameful for a moment. By the time they were wed, Laurent would have fully prepared himself to be seen by others under Damen, accepting him like a woman usually would. That very idea did not bother Laurent as much as it used to. Fynn saying that he also received cock in such a way made Laurent feel /quite/ better about it, honestly. It would bother him more that they would see him as vulnerable than anything else, but even then, it was a small sacrifice to have their marriage smiled upon by both the old gods of Vere and Akielos, as well as their people.

“Historically, consummation,” Laurent did finally reply, eyes tracking a ship far out on the horizon. It was strange to be so close to a port, to trade and fishing. There were just.../boats/. Anyone could see them. “Auguste was conceived the very day of my mother and father’s wedding. Perfectly planned. Arrived perfectly punctual.”

Auguste had been the /true/ symbol of their union - a child both Veretian and Kemptian. A /king/ equally made from the blood of both countries.

Laurent thought it best not to mention that bit. They’d had quite enough conversations about an heir.

“They will make art of it,” Laurent did chuckle as he watched the boat on the horizon drift away, away, away. “Vases. Plates. The spiritual and physical union of two countries.” Laurent rolled his eyes before sliding them over to Damen and smiling.

“Don’t look so green about it,” he said. “Half of the ceremony is already gone as I’ve no womb. It will just be a quick fuck for all of Vere to talk about for years and years to come.”

* * *

Damen could only lie there with burning cheeks, scarfing down dates and grapes in an attempt to hide his discomfort. Of course he would /try/ to pleasure Laurent, but the thought of doing so with an audience made his stomach roil. It was so against the Akielon culture to be seen while lovemaking, especially for someone of his rank. He wasn’t even sure his advisors would enter the room.

“Oh yes, only a quick fuck they will make art of and talk about,” Damen snapped, but it had no heat. He was wholly uncomfortable with the entire idea. In just over a week he would be participating in this stupid ceremony, and it would be the last thing standing in the way of his future with Laurent.

He dragged a hand over his face and rolled onto his back to match Laurent, but he was not so calm and not watching ships sail by.

“Does it truly matter?” Damen asked yet again. “When we have an heir I wouldn’t even mind as much if they watch /that/ coupling. It would avoid any rumors that I enjoyed the woman, and I would hope you would be there to make me hard."

He hadn’t forgotten what Laurent had told him in bed back in Arles. He dreamed of it often.

“I hope you know I adore you,” Damen said quietly as the sea breeze blew over them. “Please remember that if I struggle to consummate our marriage with all of those eyes on me."

* * *

“You would prefer them see you create a bastard rather than fuck me?” Laurent asked, more quizzical than anything else. He did not understand the thought process in that at all. He understood, of course, that it probably had something to do with the necessity versus the mere desire, but unfortunately, one of them lacked the parts necessary for it to be a necessity.

They had to make due with what they did have, and that was a passion both emotional and physical.

And Vere cared about the physical.

“I’ve no doubts in you,” Laurent assured Damen quite quickly, moving to peck him on the lips. He hovered there some time after, smiling down at Damen. He eas so very, /very/ handsome, even if he had gone a but red with embarrassment. Laurent tucked his hair behind his ear and leant down to swipe his tongue playfully over Damen’s bottom lip, taking the taste of apricot and date with him as he sat—

—/Laid/ back down.

As anticipated, he was quite sore. It shot straight up his back, the little twinge of an ache, but he managed to suppress it.

Perhaps he would not turn down a salve from Leopold.

“I think I would like to see more of Ios tomorrow,” Laurent stated after a moment, waiting for the right moment to speak over the gulls. They were quite shrill, those birds. “The city, not just the palace. But I would like a tour of the palace, as well. I know so little of it, and it is to be my third home.”

He turned his head to look up at Damen with a little smirk.

“And it can be somewhere for us to hide if you /do/ fail to consummate our marriage because of all of those eyes on you.”

* * *

“That is not what I said,” Damen replied, trying to stop that thought from unraveling. “I would prefer not to fuck you with an audience. In fact it’s very important to me. So yes, if impregnating a woman allows me to keep my privacy with you, I will do it.”

He accepted the kisses gratefully, cocking a brow when he felt the warm press of Laurent’s tongue on his lips. He loved Laurent with all of his heart, but he didn’t want others seeing them—he didn’t like being forced to have sex in general, even if it /was/ with Laurent.

“I am sure you could feign pleasure better than any man in the kingdoms,” Damen laughed. It was embarrassing to even talk like he couldn’t be able to pleasure his betrothed, but the threat was very real. The fact that people like Mathe would be watching disturbed him greatly.

He felt Laurent’s body tense as he move and turned his face to kiss his jaw, concerned. He would contact Leopold immediately, and they would soak in the warm baths now that they had completed their coupling.

“There is much to see, and we are in no rush,” Damen reminded him, running his fingers down Laurent’s spine. “What would you like to see of the palace tonight? Aside from our bedchamber, which I assume you are familiar with."

* * *

“For now of the reasons one usually knows a bedchambers,” Laurent murmured, confirming he knew all-too-well of Damen’s bedchamber - /their/ bedchamber. He had yet to experience it with them both healthy, alive, and without the constant nag of worry or Damen. He had been swept back to Arles before he’d ever had the chance.

“I presume I should just /see/ it,” Laurent decided, scooting over to be closer to Damen, to lean his head onto Damen’s shoulder. Laurent felt every necessity to be /attached/ to Damen right now. He could not explain it. Perhaps it was the chill of the sea. “I should be able to walk the halls confidently, know where to and where not to go.”

He rolled his eyes from the waves and up to Damen to pointedly add, "I know the slave halls better than any part of the palace.”

There had been a /pool/ inside, and Laurent had not even known of that until today!

“I want to see your home,” Laurent murmured, settling on Damen’s shoulder again. “Without all the blood and chains."

* * *

Damen intended to show Laurent everything of his home.

When they finally returned to the palace, Damen had Leopold make a salve and refused to go anywhere but the bed until Laurent had been treated—thoroughly, by Damen’s own hand, of course. Once that was done, he showed Laurent around his apartments. The pools, the lavish courtyards, the sitting room, his bedchamber (of course).

They shared dinner in the quiet of his terrace, and Damen had the chance to show Laurent a proper sunset in Ios while they ate. They laughed together like a couple free from the bindings of the crown, and when Damen finally kissed him goodnight, he was happier than he had ever.

The next morning, Damen woke with the sun, the warm sea breeze gliding over the blankets. His arms were secure around Laurent, nestled against him and fitting into every groove of his body, as if they were made for it.

“Better sleep?” Damen asked with a kiss to Laurent’s cheek, bringing him in closer. He hadn’t slept so well since leaving Arles—and sleeping at home in Ios was so much better than the bitter cold of Vere.

“Tell me Fynn won’t be at breakfast. I would rather not see him until after the—he won’t be at the consummation, will he?"

* * *

Laurent stayed sweetly pliant the rest of the evening, even going so far as allowing Damen to fret over him for a few minutes that evening.

Veretians were often ridiculed for their prediction to excess and decoration, but Laurent certainly did not have pools and terraces in his own apartments. He did not have plants and vines /inside/, royal red carpets, expansive views of the sea. Ios was truly something of some elaborate dream, one that Laurent suddenly could roam in freely.

And though his desire was to explore, to discover every odd and end to this palace, he found himself far more tired from his long journey here than he would like to admit. Having seen only a fraction of the palace, he found himself curled against Damen in a bed he had only seen as a recovery bed until this day.

He slept well into the morning.

When he did wake, it was to the sun peeking through the curtain, the call of a gull in the distance. The air did not smell of smoke, of snow, of the evergreens in the mountains. There was instead salt, brine, leather, and something sweet in the air.

“Better sleep,” he confirmed, nudging at Damen’s arm with his forehead in hopes of crawling underneath it, taking a better spot away from the glaring sun. Unfortunately, he has to abandon that effort to roll his eyes up to Damen.

Fynn? So early in the day?

“I am sure he would take any opportunity he could to not be there,” Laurent mumbled, for it was /far/ too early for this. The consummation was days away. Could Damen not just worry about breakfast first?

He knew better than to think Damen’s mind worked in such a way.

“No,” Laurent assured Damen pointedly, hoping to just move past this on such a lovely morning. “Kempt’s traditions do not involve a witnessed consummation. He need not be present. Happy?”

* * *

Damen made a note to adjust the curtains so that Laurent wouldn’t get the sun in his face in the mornings. Though he did love the way the sunlight glowed in his hair, the way his skin looked slightly pink already. He couldn’t help but steal a few kisses to Laurent’s cheek, especially when he started speaking in that sleepy morning tone of his.

“Good, yes,” Damen said with a nod, closing his eyes. Fynn would undoubtedly be at breakfast, and he would probably make a point of showing up looking the furthest thing from debauched so that Laurent could think he was still pining over him.

He pulled Laurent to his chest and rolled onto his back, getting him out of the sun. “Were you warm enough?” he asked before giving Laurent a proper kiss—and another one just for good measure. Laurent felt warm enough, but he could never tell.

“I was thinking to show you the palace this morning,” Damen said. “I will have to attend a few functions before lunch, but before then I will have showed you the grounds. Will you be able to occupy yourself for a few hours?” He thumbed at the back of Laurent’s thigh. “Are you sore?"

* * *

Laurent went wherever he was rolled, sticking close to Damen, burrowed in him. They needed to make new memories in this bed - better memories - though Laurent certainly was not up for any of that right now.

“I was warm,” Laurent confirmed, still waking, not yet sharp enough for a full conversation. He would have noted Akielos’ blankets, the stuffed cotton that made them airy yet quite warm paired with silken sheets, especially with the breeze ever blowing through the windows.

“And I am sore, but not in the places you would first imagine.” It was his back that was sore from the arching, his abdomen from the groaning, the panting, the being folded in half but, his throat from that same groaning and panting.

“But I will live to see another day.” He returned the kisses to Damen, and then he slapped his chest softly, prompting him to ‘get up.’ “I will at least live to see this palace. Come on, then.”


	13. Chapter 13

It didn’t take long for them to dress. Their evening baths had done well to removed the oil from their skin, but they both still had a sheen to them when they stepped into the sun, and Damen noted that Laurent’s skin was softer than it had ever felt because of it. He simply couldn’t keep his hands away.

Damen was happy beyond measure as he took Laurent’s hand and led him toward the dining hall. The high ceilings soared to new heights in the grand piazzas of the main hall, and the royalty of Akielos greeted them with respectful bows and only the faintest hint of amusement. Word had no doubt traveled about their reunion on the beach.

“Have you had a proper Akielon breakfast?” Damen asked as they headed toward the dining hall. He assumed Laurent had been invited to meals in the hall, but knowing Laurent he probably had elected to take them in Damen’s room instead.

“We have very light breakfasts here. Shaved almonds, yogurt with honey—light food. But if it is not to your liking the cooks would be happy to serve you.”

They loved Laurent, as he had treated them well during their previous stay. They would do anything for him, though Damen wasn’t sure /why/ exactly that was.

* * *

“I took my meals in your chambers,” Laurent unconsciously confirmed for Damen, eyes up again in the ceilings, the sprawling pillars etched in white stone and something like chalk that Laurent did not fully understand. “I ate mostly fruit.”

It was all he ever asked for.

But yogurts he would try, especially with honey, though the idea of a shaved almond was quite new and equally as fascinating. He would give it a try.

And he loved it, of course, even if yogurts were not something they usually ate in Vere. Cheese, yes, but yogurt? Laurent could never remember a time of being served it—

And by the face he made when he first scooped it up into a spoon, he could already assume as to why. Veretians would have quite the time with such a dish. He at least kept any lewd comment to himself and just /enjoyed/.

“Where are your people?” Laurent asked halfway through him meal when he noted their only company had been servants who filled their drinks, dropped their dishes. There was no Fynn. “Do you not eat with others? Or am I to be blamed for your sleeping in too late?”

* * *

Damen enjoyed his shaved almonds and dates, and elected to eat a bit of bread along with his breakfast. He could already hear the things Laurent wanted to say about yogurt the second he saw him lay eyes on it.

“I imagine they are in the courtyards,” Dmaen said. “You must eat just after dawn if you intend to dine with the masses—unless we schedule something later. Akielons break fast every early, lunch is roughly the same as Vere, and dinner is often very late. In the summer it is still far too hot to eat comfortably at a Veretian dinner hour.”

He spooned up some of Laurent’s yogurt and took his bite. It was done quite well.

“I let you sleep,” Damen admitted. “I didn’t want to wake either, but I couldn’t stomach waking you when you looked so peaceful."

* * *

“You are disgustingly smitten with me,” Laurent teased, dipping his finger into his yogurt and tapping it right into the tip of Damen’s straight nose. He sucked his fingertip into his mouth then, smiling wickedly around it for long enough that he heard one of the servant girls giggle.

She was a young-looking girl, but clearly of age, fair-haired and lovely. Laurent watched her dart into the kitchen after she’d unwittingly caught his eye. She’d gone as red as the lion head tapestries in the hall.

“Your palace is still outfitted with women of your taste,” Laurent pointed out, watching another girl now as she shuffled across the hall, bowing low as he carried a tray of bread past them and out into the halls past this one. Her hair had been honeyed, a bit darker, but she had been equally as lovely as the last.

And they’d both been women.

They were /all/ women. At least, those serving the king directly.

Laurent had been given men.

* * *

“And you wonder why,” Damen laughed, sliding his hand up Laurent’s thigh under the table. Ios brought so much happiness to him, especially now that Laurent was here. He could truly appreciate his home, now that his beloved was here to experience it with him, from morning light to the red depths of evening.

Damen tried to see if Laurent was jealous with his statement. “Yes, they are. Thought it is actually outfitted for Kastor’s taste.” Damen said as he spooned up more yogurt. “My servants and staff were slaughtered when I was sent to you. And it has not yet been long enough to replace Kastor’s staff—there is no reason to punish these people who have trained a better part of their lives for their duties simply because they worked under my brother.”

Perhaps he was being a bit defensive.

“Does it bother you?” he asked, rather surprised. Surely Laurent would not be jealous. Surely /Laurent/ would know he would /never/ even entertain another lover.

* * *

“Oh, yes,” Laurent murmured distractedly, having honestly forgotten about Damen’s entire system had been slaughtered in Kastor’s jealous wake. But Laurent found himself less worried about the many killed and more worried about those who had lived. Each of these servants had been loyal to Kastor, yet Damen kept them around, at his side, in his most intimate of rooms and haunts.

Laurent could not say he liked that.

Much like he did not think fondly of being asked if he was /jealous/.

“It bothered me less when I thought they had been chosen for you,” Laurent replied honestly, grateful nothing had happened to Damen already. “That’s not something you worry about, then?”

Damen saw too much good in too many people. It was risky, keeping them all, especially when he had gone so wildly against what his brother had been in support of.

“Really, Damen, what do your Kyroi /do/? Do they have your wellbeing in mind at all?”

Laurent knew they did, could easily assume Damen had something to do with this decision, pardoning them all or something equally as thoughtless.

He was an infuriatingly pure man.

* * *

Ah, yes. Laurent and his thoughts on betrayal. Damen smiled and shook his head. “I am not worried about any plots. Killing me would put the kingdom in shambles, and times are prosperous for Akielos. Besides, Cosmas would take the throne and the kyroi would not have that. I think it would be Nikandros who woul dtake my place until Cosmas was able.”

He really didn’t think about it much. And he was a skilled fighter—a female servant would hardly have the ability to render him incapable.

“They have the wellbeing of the kingdom in mind,” Damen said. “Nikandros is the only one required to see after my wellbeing full time.” He flashed Laurent a devilish grin, though he tried not to tease him too much. After all, Laurent had every right to be nervous about such things.

“Not everyone plots,” Damen said gently, caressing Laurent’s jaw with a finger. “And not all are from Kastor’s reign. Nikandros does his job well, my love."

* * *

Laurent listened - he did - but he could not give any credit to what Damen was saying. His expression only changed once when it went from unconvinced to momentarily piqued with interest, and then straight back to unimpressed.

Everyone plotted. Everyone. It was naive to think otherwise, but what was Damen if not charmingly naive at times. But, more than that—

“I will pretend I did not just hear you say Cosmas would take the throne,” Laurent said, pulling his face away from Damen’s fingertips to sip at his water. Of course it made sense that Cosmas had a line to the throne, but that had very much been what Laurent had tried to avoid, had tried to guide Damen in making that child disappear.

And it wasnt that Laurent hated that child. He did not /hate/ infants. He only knew how difficult that child’s life would be here. Its mother imprisoned, his father dead, killed by his uncle’s Veretian lover and partner. Cosmas would be ridiculed for the predicaments surrounding his birth, would never truly be treated as a king if he were to rise. The courts would be ruthless, the people unkind.

Laurent had tried to get that through to Damen. He had.

“And where /is/ Nikandros?” Laurent asked, glancing around the room - and landing his gaze on yet another servant girl, this one brunette, scantily clad as all the others. How did they get any work done? “I feel, its my being here, he would worry for your wellbeing more than ever."

* * *

“Until we are married, he is next in line,” Damen said. “He is the only one with royal blood.” He supposed he understood Laurent’s hatred of Cosmas for carrying Kastor’s blood, but that was the way lineage worked. Akielos would respect no other king until Laurent married him, and even then if he died he doubted Akielos would respect Laurent’s claim unless it was without a doubt that Damen died without him having a hand in it.

“Nikandros has had weeks to worry about me,” Damen chuckled. “He does like you, even if he is currently furious with you for what happened with Fynn. He knows that we intend to marry, and I think by the time we are wed he will have calmed.”

Maybe. Nikandros had still been quite angry about Laurent coming to Ios as recently as two nights ago. He also had a feeling Nikandros had only coordinated his escape in the hope (and fear) that Damen would find Laurent in bed with Fynn. Admittedly, Damen would have been afraid of the same had he known Fynn was even coming.

“I will tell him you asked about him,” Damen teased. "He’ll be warm all over."

* * *

“I will have to spend some time with him,” Laurent teased in the exact same tone as Damen, though his delivery always tended to sound much more scathing when matched with Laurent’s knife’s edge gaze. /That/ came from Damen’s bringing up Fynn. Again. “It has been too long since I downed dear Nikandros in wrestling.”

Laurent never had.

With that, Laurent stood, affixed his chiton to a more reasonable length now that he was standing, and extended his hand to Damen.

“Come,” Laurent fondly ordered, pulling Damen to his feet - as if he had any say in that matter. “This is not the tour I was promised, Damianos.” And then, with a small smile, he added, “Do tell me if I limp.”

*****

Laurent did not limp. He had too much control over his body to allow such a thing, and truthfully, with Leopold’s salve…followed immediately by Pascal’s, Laurent felt fine. He had no discomfort, but that would not stop him from endlessly torturing Damen about it.

“And what is down there?” Laurent asked - as he had with every hall Damen had not described in meticulous detail along their tour. So far, the answers had been ‘slave quarters,’ and ‘storage,’ and ‘armouries,’ but it did not keep Laurent from asking. He’d had twenty-one years to learn Arles. He had only days to learn Ios before it would be his, and he hoped to have /some/ knowledge of it all.

* * *

Damen showed Laurent the palace with patience and good cheer. It still confounded him that Laurent didn’t know his home, a place so much as part of him that it felt like maybe Laurent didn’t know /him/ as well as he thought. Two years really wasn’t much time to learn each other, and Damen found himself looking forward to a lifetime at Laurent’s side.

It was impossible not to be infatuated with the way Laurent’s sharp gaze trailed the height of a pillar or statue, they way his deft fingers traced a priceless painted vase or lingered on a door handle. They was his blond hair shimmer in the sun as he walked with his pruposeful gate, his nose always slightly upturned in a show of his royal stature.

“Come and see,” Damen said, leading Laurent down the narrow stairwell. He opened the door to a large room, underground but not completely, as there were small windows at the top of the walls to let in sunlight.

Scattered throughout the room were half formed heads and bodies—all made of marble blocks, several of which sat in the far corner of the room. The sculptors were gone, likely taking a stroll or headed to lunch.

Damen brought his fingers up to card through Laurent’s hair. “Soon they will sculpt one in your likeness,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to Laurent’s pink lips. “But it will never compare to the real thing.” He pressed their lips together, delighted to taste honey yet still.

* * *

Laurent had never had a sculpture not a bust ever made of himself. In Vere, such a memoriam was not given until after death. Laurent had to assume, with the way Damen mentioned it so passively, that Akielos did not use sculpture in the same way.

“The sculpture will not burn under the sun,” Laurent pointed out just before their kiss, but it did not impede him from following through with it after. He wrapped his arms around Damen’s neck, even tipped back a fraction of an angle, pulling Damen with him, delighting in the intimacy.

In front of a dozen marble strangers.

“And who are they?” Laurent asked, reaching out the closest stone carving, his fingers tracing over a stranger’s nose, a marble cheekbone. There were no lips, no brow, no eyes to help with identification. “Men? Or Gods?”

* * *

Damen readily accepted Laurent’s shift in posture, darting his tongue over Laurent’s bottom lip for a better taste of the honey, his hands moving down Laurent’s back. It would be easy to undo his chiton here, to set him on a perfectly sized piece of marble to take him here, surrounded by cool stone.

“People of Akielos,” Damen replied, watching with unashamed reverence at the way Laurent’s fingers moved over the marble. Did his hands look like that when he touched his face? When his thumb trailed on /his/ cheekbone? “The wealthy commission them to capture their youth or prowess. Usually just a bust, but occasionally a full body. War heroes, kyroi, fighting champions, and long ago, skilled hunters.”

He couldn’t stop staring at Laurent’s lips, now kiss-red and glistening.

“Will you meet me after my appointments?” Damen asked, already loathing the idea of parting from Laurent now. “In our bedchamber?”

He did plan to ride out into the city today, but they could take a chariot. He wasn’t sure Laurent had ever seen one, as they were only used ceremonially now that using them in battle had been more or less abandoned.

“Tonight there will be games, perhaps we could attend those after,” he continued, as though he hadn’t just invited Laurent to bed a moment earlier. “Would you like that?"

* * *

Damen was crowding him, and just by the shift in his body, the slight lean in the direction Laurent’s back had taken, he could tell exactly what Damen was thinking - thinking to do /with him/. Laurent smirked, tipped his head back for a second, dangerously on the threshold of falling back if it were’t for Damen, and eyeing the slab of marble behind him.

He could always trust Damen to be consistent with his desires.

But Laurent would not be fucking the Akielon king atop the unformed people of Akielos. It was simply too on the nose.

“I have been nowhere /but/ our bedchamber,” Laurent groaned as he righted himself in Damen’s arms. “Let me explore, let me /see/ our kingdom-to-be.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Damen’s lips before adding, “And /then/ I will be in our bedchamber. Every evening. With you.”

Damen was absolutely insatiable, as Laurent had heard from every echelon and both Akielos and Vere. Laurent had been more susceptible to that since his arrival in Ios, and though he was flattered and loved that of Damen, Laurent did have duties to attend to. Even if those duties were touring Akielos on his own accord to the extent at which he was able.

* * *

“The gardens then,” Damen countered. “You can explore at your leisure while I am gone, but you could meet me there before dinner.” His private gardens were not visited by royals except when opened for them, and Damen would be able to properly ensure they were not bothered. He wanted Laurent’s body /now/, but it didn’t seem like he would be getting it.

“And besides,” he continued, kissing along Laurent’s brow. “What if I can’t wait until evening? What if I want you now?”

And he did, very much. This time he wanted to make love to Laurent their usual way, slow and gentle and thorough. With none of the searing heat and potential for discomfort as they had faced before. No more needy passion or roughness, just Laurent as he was.

“Please?” he asked, carding back Laurent’s hair again. “You cannot tell me you are truly satisfied. I’ve not yet taken you the way you most enjoy."

* * *

A /please/. Damen was truly asking this of him, filled with desire in a way Laurent never saw him unless they were already in a compromising position, red-lipped and thrumming with energy kissing coursed through them. Even his pupils were blown!

Laurent loved him so.

“We will see at what time my solo-tour ends,” Laurent countered casually, easily, and with just enough of a quirk to his lips that it was obvious he was /teasing/ Damen. “I can assure you that you will see me /somewhere/ before the games, but I cannot guarantee the time you will have.”

With that successfully hanging in the air, undoubtedly plaguing Damen’s libido, Laurent kissed him and, quite boldly, tapped his hands to Damen’s ass, prompting him to move.

“Go be a king,” Laurent told him, still standing too close, as if he might fall into kisses again, and then a whole ordeal of fucking atop cold stone. “Let me roam. I’ll not leave the walls."

* * *

Damen could to stop the pang of disappointment, the sting of rejection, though he knew Laurent was merely prolonging the game and not ending it. Even so, he wasn’t going to fuck him before his appointments, and that immediately soured his mood.

Laurent’s hands on his ass didn’t help. He watched his lips move, the way they looked when he promised not to leave. He was still too close, hadn’t yet pulled away or brushed past him to head back up the stairs.

“A king makes others wait for him.” Damen replied, his voice low. He was going to try again, only because Laurent hadn’t said no—in fact, he hadn’t addressed what was going on between them right now at all, just that later they would have an indefinite amount of time together.

“Right now I want you. I want your mouth, your hands, your body. Whatever and however I am allowed to take it,” he said, his tone even, as if asking for more land in a war negotiation.

“Then we will have what we can before the games, and after my victory in wrestling, as I know there will be at least one."

* * *

Laurent should have worn chitons more often. He should have come to Ios much sooner, should have let Damen see him in the sun, eating fruit, and living the fantastical life by the seaside. Had he known it would make Damen /so/ enamored, he would have done it months ago. Laurent could get away with anything when Damen was in a mood like this, and though there was no scheme, no ploy, nothing he wanted to get away with, it was a nice thought.

That all being said, it wasnt /in/ Laurent right now. He loved Damen, had enjoyed their every moment together, and genuinely warmed at the very thought of Damen inside of him, but the desire in the way Damen had it was not there. It was currently squashed under Laurents otherwise desire to explore, to /learn/, to independently go about and take in his new surroundings. He loved Damen, but Laurent was still a creature of habit.

“You can have this kiss,” Laurent told him, and this time, his hands moved to Damen’s face, and while he kissed him softly, Laurent took a step away, put a space between their bodies. “And that is all until you’ve gone and finished your duties."

There. Compromise.

“Let me go find my own trouble,” Laurent followed up, attention already back around the room, taking a step back into the world that was no the bubble he and Damen tended to get lost in.

* * *

Damen didn’t want a soft kiss. He wanted to press Laurent to his chest and kiss him meaningfully, to have him against the wall until he lost himself to those soft moans and shudders of breath Laurent always gave him when he was trying his best not to give in to his pleasure but was hopeless against it.

But he took what was offered, and chased his mouth with Laurent pulled away. he bit his bottom lip, trying to savor the taste of him, to make it last until they were together again.

“Don’t incite a war when we are about to marry,” Damen warned teasingly, trying and failing to hide his misery over being denied. He followed Laurent back up to the main hall and they were forced to part for good this time, though Damen made sure to steal a few more kisses before he finally pried himself away.

*****

Fynn, for his part, was having a wonderful time. He knew it probably wasn’t the wisest idea, but he enlisted Lucien’s help in sending a message to Laurent so he wouldn’t feel left out or worry.

_Thank you for bringing me here, I am enjoying myself thoroughly. I will not be at dinner for most of the week, as I have been invited to attend meals with several of the noble families outside the city. I have promised to inform Nikandros of my whereabouts should you need me (he insists you won’t). I will be at the games tonight—I hope we will have time to talk before then? Otherwise I fear I may not see you until we leave for Marlas._

Lucien took the message with pride, thankful that he had earned the trust of both Fynn and Laurent.

Unfortunately, Damen saw the exchange, and he knew full well that there was only one person Fynn would be writing to. Only one person he could give a note to /Lucien/ to deliver to. Hurt lanced through him again. How many secret messages had they passed? How many times had Laurent stopped his meetings to send a note to his beloved “friend”?

He entered his meeting in such a state of anger that even Nikandros had to fumble to rethink their strategy on their discussion, as he had expected Damen to waltz in love-drunk and pliant to their requests.

Not. So.

* * *

Lucien found Laurent, roaming the halls, eyes up on the expansive ceilings, the understated decorations of Ios. He’d been enjoying himself, discovering room after room and taking a moment to commit each to memory. A study, a lounge room, an entertainment room fit with fine ferns and fronds, soft cushions fit into tiny pits, braziers and silk curtains.

Lucien had found Laurent just outside the second armory he’d seen, It was nice to see a familiar face.

“Your highness,” Lucient stated in greeted as he handed over the letter. Laurent took it, but did not yet open it. He could tell from the writing on the outside that this was not a letter from Damen.

“Where is Jord?” Laurent asked, the letter held between fine-boned fingers, ignored for the time being. The one person that knew for certain it had not been Lucien making those noises of pleasure back at the camp had been Lucien, and though Laurent could assume Lucien knew the situation, he could not bet on that. He could not seem eager for a letter from Fynn.

“He is overseeing camp,” Lucien informed, “and posting men at all the exits should you decide to sneak off.”

“He knows me too well,” Laurent smirked, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at Lucien. “The Akielon have been kind to you?” Laurent asked, not so quiet as to hide he was asking it, as if he wanted any passing servant or noble to hear that he was asking, was listening.

“Very well,” Lucien grinned. “I am of the border. They have accepted me. I think they are kind to Jord because he and Nikandros can commiserate together over you and Akielon King.”

Laurent shook his head and watched Lucien depart at the end of their conversation. And he watched….and watched…and watched—

Until he was gone.

Laurent flipped open the letter and began back down the hall, reading all the while.

Fynn had a wonderful point in his letter, and had Laurent realised their shortness of time, he would have scheduled time earlier for them. He needed to talk to Fynn before the union, needed his advisor’s input, his friendly input as well. Laurent supposed he could call for it now, have someone send for Fynn and speak with him while Damen was—

At the sound of a shrill wail, Laurent raised his head from the letter, turned it in the direction from which he’d heard the following cry, and another. It sounded far away, muffled, but the hall from where it came was hardly fashioned for an infant. It was dark, lit only by a few sconces in the wall.

Of course, Laurent headed towards it.

He disappeared down into a hallway, listening to the crying soften, but only because it was tapering off. That fact that he could still hear it meant he was getting closer and, when he came to a lock gridiron of metal, he knew exactly where he was.

“Have you not enough hairpins to pick this lock?” Laurent asked, leveling his eyes on Jokaste across the way. She was not being kept in squalor. Her cell was a fine room, set with all she might ever need. The less they had to open this door, the better.

Another Akielon woman, a nurse of some sort, sat in the room with Jokast, off into the corner, and - not realizing who had stepped up to the bars - starting waving Laurent away, murmuring something about decency…or indecency. Laurent could not tell with how quick she spoke.

* * *

Jokaste didn’t look up when she heard someone enter her room. People came in and out—men, women, children. Her cell was better referred to as Cosmas’s room that a woman happened to live in. A prisoner who happened to be his mother. She would never admit her gratitude to anyone, least not Damen, for allowing her her child. Cosmas was a fragile thing, with his beautiful dark curls and long lashes, the dark eyes of his father. Darker than Damen’s, but no less warm.

Damen was raising him better than Kastor ever could have. She stroked his warm cheek where he suckled at her breast—Damen had given her a wet nurse, but she had refused. Feeding her child made her needed by at least one little body, made it just that much harder for them to end her life—and she knew many wanted to. She wondered if Damen did now.

When she heard Laurent’s speak, her lips twitched in a smirk. How perfect.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted with a dip of her head. “You’ll forgive me for not standing to curtsy. I have a rather hungry heir on my hands.” He had to hate that the baby in her arms held more power than he did here, even with Damen’s love and favor.

Her nurse blanched, bending over herself to bow to the Veretian king. Jokaste jutted her chin toward the door and soon enough they were alone.

She cocked her head once the door had shut. “Why would I pick locks? My child is here, I live in luxury,” she replied cheerfully, but didn’t smile. “Escape would mean capture, capture would mean a cell much bleaker than this one.”

Cosmas nuzzled against her, his tiny hand curled to a fist against her chest.

“Have you slipped your leash to come toy with me?” she asked, finally smiling. “As I understand it you’ve been doing quite a bit of that lately. I can’t blame you, I hear the Herzog is an impeccable beauty."

* * *

“Do the rumours reach so far?” Laurent asked with a hint of humor that did not meet his eyes. He had not missed how Jokaste had described the baby. An /heir/.

Laurent had yet to look at it. In his many years in Vere, he had learned to not be taken by the sight of woman’s breast, so he did not feel so inclined as to look anywhere but her face and around her room. There were no special areas for the baby, he noticed, so this must be her permanent cell. Cosmas must be taken from her and raised elsewhere in the palace - nowhere Laurent had explored yet.

Laurent moved his gaze back to her face, still ignoring the child in her arms with all he had, as if seeing it might affect him in such a way undeniable. Expression completely schooled, he somehow navigated the conversation casually, as if there was not something lodged in his throat, in his chest every time the child made and noise. He could not bear to look at it…

And he could not name why.

“Escape would suit you,” Laurent went on, leaning casually up against the wall, arms crossed, eyes down on her. She was just as beautiful as she had been - ‘impeccable,’ as she had described Fynn. “I’ve a few days left until my union to Damianos, plenty of time for trouble. Perhaps if you were to succeed in one escape, your viewpoint would change."

* * *

“Maybe I have succeeded in an escape," Jokaste taunted. “I learned from the best. But I have no desire to run and live amongst the rocks and shrugs. Childbirth does such horrible things to a body. Running simply doesn’t suit me anymore—not that it ever has.” She stroked Cosmas’s curls and he murmured softly. She tried not to grimace at the sensation of warm milk leaking down her belly from him opening his mouth.

Fate was cruel—she had wanted to be a Kingmaker, but not like this. Not anything like /this/.

“I would advise you not to cause anymore trouble than you already have,” Jokaste warned in a distracted tone, eyes on her child. “Damen forgives, but he does not forget.” _Don’t ruin it._ But from what she’d heard, he already had. Laurent had dared to commit the one sin that Damen could not forgive.

“Has he changed since?” she asked. Laurent was a smart man, skilled even beyond her in tricks and manipulation. He’d proved so before. But Jokaste still felt she knew Damianos better—she was certain she still did. Laurent’s two years with him were nothing compared to her half a decade as his lover. She’d spent two years before that merely trying to catch his eye. Thank the gods her breasts had developed late, or else she never would have garnered his attention, even with a face like hers.

“Does he hesitate just a fraction of a second before he enters the room? Go quiet when left alone for too long? Is he angry more than he—oh, what am I asking.” She flicked her wrist dismissively. "You wouldn’t know. He left Arles after what, three nights of reconciliation?”

Laurent would not look at her child. That delighted her.

“And you spent weeks in Arles without Akielon eyes to pry. Then weeks on the road in cold weather and long nights.” She smiled a little wider. “All with the Herzog. I can’t blame you for bringing him along to ease you.” She turned her face toward the window, wincing slightly when Cosmas pinched her with his mouth. "Perhaps I should inquire if Damianos is in need of a trusted advisor—would he take me, do you think?”

The pun had not eluded her. She knew it wouldn’t elude Laurent either.

* * *

Laurent could have known this would be their reunion. He and Jokaste had never been much more than tense acquaintances, and as far as he was concerned, it would never improve. He’d won, after all. Damen, the kingdom, love...all of that.

As far as he was concerned, anyway.

So he took no notice of what she had to say, her barbs or false niceties. He could no give weight to anything, for he knew her beliefs of Damen were of a different man. His Damen did not hesitate when he entered rooms. He didn’t...go quiet. He...wasn’t...

Oh, she was good.

“Ah yes, my illustrious list of lovers,” Laurent revered mockingly, catching himself as he almost followed her eye like down to the child. He wouldn’t. “I’m sure you heard about my indecent affair with my brother, as well.”

Laurent shifted his weight, made himself more comfortable if only to show she had not run him off with small slights.

“Damianos has Nikandros should he be so desperate,” Laurent assured her confidently, not missing her jibe at all. It wouldn’t shake him.

“The Herzog is a good man,” Laurent called her bluff right out, just in case she believed he would not address it at all. “Perhaps you will meet him sometime. I’ll invite Damianos and we’ll make a meal of it.”

* * *

  
Jokaste had to admit it was refreshing to be around someone as smart as she was. Everyone else she met here was dull and uninteresting—likely chosen to be that way so they had nothing in common, no foothold for her to cling to and make her escape.

She couldn’t quite tell if Laurent was posturing, but she was guessing he was. His lack of a reaction was a reaction on its own.

“I’m sure he’s a good man,” Jokaste replied easily. “That seems to be your preference.”

Cosmas finally slipped from her nipple after having gorged himself. He'd fallen immediately asleep. It reminded her of Damen, how he lived fiercely and slept so soundly because of it. She reached over to grab a cloth left by her maid, wiping herself clean before gently wiping the milk from Cosmas’s mouth and chin. He wriggled slightly, but didn’t wake.

“I know the rumors of your relations with brother are lies,” she continued, looking up at Laurent again. She silently dared him to look down at her bared breast, but she knew he wouldn’t. Not because he would avoid indecency, but because he didn’t care. Laurent was a king only after cock.

How lucky he was to have Damen’s.

“Has Damianos bored you?” she asked, trying to catch what the root of his affair had been. “Surely not in the bedroom, but we both know he’s not the most well-read king. The Herzog has libraries dedicated in his name. And his shipmates in Akielos still tell his stories from the boats, all the things he’s seen. All of the women and men he’s pleasured all over the kingdoms.”

She gently tugged up her dress to cover herself, merely annoyed at the draft in the room.

“Or perhaps Damianos strayed first?” she tried. “Monogamy has never suited him. You know the servant girls here were hand selected for his viewing?” She fought back a smirk. “I bet he hasn’t seemed tempted by them. It’s because he’s already had them all. There’s nothing to wonder about—but some day those girls will be too old, and new ones will come with fair hair and firm breasts. You already have a crack in your foundation that won’t be healed with a wedding. In ten years do you really think he’d refuse a supple young girl begging for him?”

Her eyes narrowed, her gaze dark and knowing. She’d seen him swept up in other women before, taken solace in her becoming a Queen. Pretended not to feel inferior. “Your game will grow old with him. The novelty of seducing a frigid, indifferent King will fade, and he’ll want the hot, needy want only a new face will give him. I’ve seen it. Even with me at the peak of my youth and beauty, there is nothing so alluring as a girl too stupid to make him work for it."

* * *

Her words were biting, and as Laurent should have foreseen, she did not hold back in her verbal mauling. She had everything to fight again. She was stuck in there, a kingmaker in the worst way - one that did not matter. She was a prisoner, a traitor, while Laurent took her husband, her throne. She had every right to fight.

It had simply been some time since Laurent had a conversation with someone of his own caliber.

He wished he could enjoy it more.

“I might wager we know two entirely different Damianoses,” Laurent chuckled, brushing his hair out of his face, gaze unwavering from hers. Laurent had seen all the women, knew just what he was surrounded by, but he did not feel as if he were in competition with them. Jokaste had not seen how Damen looked at him this morning, last night, on the beach, in their tent during their little tryst. They’d had a hiccup, yes, a failure in judgement and a betrayal, but Laurent knew he’d won Damen back. He had no doubts.

None at all.

“Kastor’s girls are still roaming about,” Laurent tacked on to Jokaste’s accounts, again not giving into her narrative. “He’s the chance to take the lot of them. I will report directly to you if that is ever a decision of his.” Laurent historically had not carried the same level of desire as Damen had. Things had begun to change, but even with Laurent at his most intimate with Damen, he knew he could not always match Damen’s desires. But he was aware of that. It would not be what cracked his resolve as Jokaste so wanted.

“It is not as if /I/ can give him a cunt to fuck,” Laurent dismissed with a flick of his wrist, waving off the very notion of a care. “Should he want it, I am sure an arrangement of compromise could be made. I am sure I will survive should rumours spread about my inability to sprout a cunt for my King’s desires.”

* * *

Jokaste laughed bitterly. Change. Damianos hadn’t changed. “Different? No. If he were different, it would have happened after you flayed his back raw. He is the same, for better or for worse.” He kept away from her because he was still reeling from her betrayal. He kept her in a luxurious cell because Damen was too naive to properly punish people. He loved to his own detriment.

“Noble of you to allow him to stray,” she said. “I said the same. That he would always come back to me, that they didn’t see the way he looked at me in the mornings when he woke in bed beside me, the way he looked so fondly at me while we made love.”

Laurent was still far too young, just as she had been. He was ignorant, completely blind.

Despite their past, she did find Laurent...acceptable. Formidable even. She had to admire him for winning Damianos despite the odds.

“Compromise?” she scoffed. “There is no compromise when you make the decision to let him fuck who he wants. You may be a man but I’m sure it is no secret to you that Akielos sees you as his Queen.” She shook her head. “Theomedes was a fair man, but had Egeria taken a lover as he did, she would have been hung for it. Yet Kastor the half-bastard was given a crown. His lover given royal apartments and all the pleasures of a queen.”

Jokaste held her baby closer to her, almost protectively.

“Women of Akielos are told a very different story than the histories record. Egeria was careless. She thought like you did, and her great love story—and there was one, if you care to read it in the libraries here—has been tucked away and forgotten.” Jokaste had been warned as a young girl at court with an eye for the heir, as every girl had.

“Damen will tell you the marriage was a political affair.” She snorted. “That shows you just how much of her has been erased—that her own son doesn’t even know the true story of his mother. You’re smarter than her,” Jokaste said. “I hope you are smart enough to realize how closely you skirt the same fate.

* * *

It had almost been the slight flare of Laurent’s nostrils that gave him away, a gut reaction to hearing a truth he knew. He still held no doubt in Damen - Jokaste could not conspire that alone - but doubt in himself, though rare, could still creep up at any time.

Laurent thought he had no fears of being seen as a queen in Akielos. In a world of binaries in royalty, Laurent fit a certain mould better than Damen did, and he understood that, but accepting that role meant accepting failure, and Laurent did so hate failure. Laurent could not fully give what a good queen could, and—

It happened out of his control. Curiosity in a brief moment of weakness that he /tried/ to mask with indifference set his eyes straight where he’d been avoiding for so long.

Laurent still, a minute reaction that he easily could have hidden had he pulled his eyes away faster.

But it was too late.

Words fell away. Talks of Egeria, of straying, of politics and disappointment fell away to a dull drone as Laurent took in the small bundle in Jokaste’s arms for the first time.

Theomedes genes were strong (and had to be to give a child such as Damen to this world), and shown all to familiarly in the child. The dark lashes, the warm skin tone, the straight nose, the dimples. The child was unmistakable, even with Jokaste’s eyes - shape and colour. The same blue of Laurent’s.

“Fate and I have always been at odds,” Laurent murmured, detached, still staring at Jokaste’s prize.

Fate would be at odds for that child. His father dead, his mother imprisoned— and still the closest thing Akielos had to an heir.

It shouldn’t be here.

* * *

There it was. Jokaste noted the moment that Laurent finally dared to look at her child. Had she not been forced to tell the truth so long ago, she could have convinced anyone that Cosmas was Damen’s son. She still wished there was some way for her not know, to have it still be a chance, but she knew this was Kastor’s child. The timing had made it impossible for it to be Damen’s.

Even so, Damen doted after the child as if he were his own. She wondered if Laurent knew he treated Cosmas with so much fondness. On the rare occasion that Damianos was the one to return her child to her, she felt the way he looked strained whenever he had to let him go. It was no secret to anyone how desperate Damen was for a child.

Cosmas stared up at her, swaddled tight in his blanket, drowsy and as achihngly sweet as he had always been. How she had wanted this with Damen—a child he took riding, held up so he didn’t fall as he toddled about.

“Damen wants a child,” Jokaste said, though she knew Laurent already knew that. “He adores Cosmas as if he is his own. That is dangerous for both of them."

* * *

If anyone would have caught him, it would have been Jokaste. Laurent supposed there was no use in trying to hide it after that.

“I have told him to get rid of the child multiple times,” Laurent told her easily, without hesitation, and with an indifference that put him back in control of himself. “I am surprised you have not wanted the same - for the child to be far from here. The son of a disgraced false-king and his equally disgraced lover?”

It was a biting comment, but Laurent had not needed to be reminded /again/ of Damen’s desire for a child.

“The kingdom will be ruthless. Should something happen to Damen or myself, they will never respect him. They will be cruel to him. He will doubt himself, give way to a terrible reign.”

He finally lifted his eyes again, away from the child, from what Jokaste had given into this world: an impediment.

“Certainly you understand that better than anyone. How quickly a kingdom can turn on its ruler.”

* * *

“Now, perhaps,” Jokaste agreed, thumbing over Cosmas’s warm forehead. He gurgled softly, lashes falling closed as delicately as Damen’s did when sleep took him. As Kastor’s had. Cosmas would grow tall and strong like his father and grandfather, as smart and stubborn as them too. She hoped that Damen also gave him a kind heart like his own, but the strength to keep himself from being trampled.

“But if he is raised by Damianos?” She smiled fondly at her son. “Even Vere will have to respect his bloodline—unless you plan to produce an heir yourself.” She knew full well he wouldn’t. She was willing to bet Laurent wouldn’t even be able to bed a woman, he was so utterly disinterested in them.

“He will make a fine prince. Despite what you might think, I would never teach him to hate Damianos. Cosmas will understand what his father did, that his life was spared because of a generous and merciful king who defied his own beloved to keep him.” Now that she knew that was a fact, of course.

Damen would never get rid of her child. in the beginning she knew he’d been tempted to, but he was too loving. He still loved Kastor, the brother who so ardently betrayed him. Who would have thrown Damen’s child in the sea had the situation been reversed.

Cosmas was the sole thing she yet shared with the man she still loved.

“Just as kingdoms are quick to turn, only a few niceties win their favor, no matter the backstory or even if they are true.” Jokaste looked back up to Laurent. “Or have you forgotten how your own kingdom viewed you just a year ago?"

* * *

“Defied his beloved to keep him,” Laurent repeated as if thinking the thought over. The child would never love him - would never have the chance to. It did not surprise him that he would be made out to be the venom. Jokaste merely had presented a new reason for the child to despise Laurent. “The same beloved who slay his father. Replaced his mother at the throne.”

Chatter sounded off in the distance, echoed off the limestone bricks of the hallway. Laurent only glanced over his shoulder, unworried of being found here, but interested in hearing any familiar voices.

“And you speak as if my kingdom has changed their mind about me.”

He turned back to her, this time speaking more matter-of-factly.

“Damianos will not raise this child,” he assured her with all the confidence of a man outside of the bars. “You will raise it. Alone. Far from Ios. Perhaps in Kempt. You could meet the Herzog your very self. But it will be your burden to bear. Not Damianos’.”

And then, perhaps perplexingly to her, Laurent added with great honesty, “And I am sorry for that.”

* * *

Oh, but Damianos /would/ raise him. Damen already saw Cosmas as a son, and trying to take him away now…well, that might work in her favor, actually. Drive the crack in their foundation a little deeper, maybe break all the way through it. Maybe not immediately, but over time when she snuck gossip or letters or evidence of Akielos’s heir growing without him, learning how to ride from…oh yes.

“I would live in Kempt,” she agreed. “I think that is the only place you could send me where he wouldn’t follow. And I would welcome the Herzog’s company.”

Fynn was not totally interested in men, though he seemed to prefer them. She could take him to bed, especially if he was interested in Laurent. Damen had a type, and was pickier than most gave him credit for.

“His name is Cosmas,” she corrected. “My child is not an ‘it.’” Cosmas whined at the sound of his name, turning his face to her in his fitful sleep. She doubted Laurent was sorry about any of it, as it would be his doing.

“Be careful, Laurent,” she warned, unafraid to use his name. "Evidently you do not understand the draw of a child, what it can do to those who lose them."

* * *

“My father removed his helmet in a war over losing his son. It cost him an arrow to the head,” Laurent reminded her easily. He knew what losing a child could do to someone. That was why he tried to dissuade Damen from doing as he had done. Laurent would bring an end to it now. For the child’s sake.

He had all the more reason to talk to Fynn now.

“I suppose you might try to tell Damen of this decision,” he did say to Jokaste before he could make a move to leave. “It would not surprise me, but I do think you should think it over. A world outside of these walls with your child. Before Damen has someone take it from you all together.” As /that/ had been his plan.

“We’ll continue this soon,” Laurent did say in parting, finally pushing off the wall and leaving without a second glance towards the child.

He was more than grateful for the fresh sea air breezing through the windows when he exited into the main hall, passing only a group of servants as he headed towards the main entrance, off into the Veretian camp.

“I’m looking for the Herzog,” Laurent told Jord when he spotted him first. Jord had expected him after all - he had received word of Laurent attempting to leave and had acted in response to it.

“The Kyros has him under something of a civil arrest,” Jord chuckled, looking out over the camp. “He is quite driven to keep you two separate.”

“He will fail soon,” Laurent assured Jord dryly. “Send for him.”


	14. Chapter 14

Fynn was delighted to receive Laurent’s message. Honestly, there wasn’t much that had happened in the past few days that hadn’t delighted him—except perhaps seeing Damianos. Even then, he /liked/ Damen, but Damen hated him. Fynn no longer cared, he was having the time of his life in Akielos. His skin had already turned gold with the sun, his cheeks flushed from sea spray.

“Laurent,” he greeted in the hall, grinning wide. He wrapped Laurent up in a tight hug, simply too happy to think about consequences. Jord was not far off, so they had their chaperone—what else did they need?

“You look refreshed,” he said as he pulled back, tempted to thumb Laurent’s fair jaw. He didn’t. “I love it here,” he gushed, looking up to take in the high ceilings of the palace. “I had yet to stay in the palace. I visited once with my father, but was never allowed to roam it. What a place. Isn’t it grand?”

He offered Laurent his arm, determined to take him for a walk along the pathway Nikandros had shown him that looked out over the sea. It was nice and private, away from prying eyes.

“I’m glad my message got to you. Nikandros has been gone all day dealing with Damianos and his duties, so I was able to escape."

* * *

The hug was unexpected, but no so unwelcome. Perhaps it was yet again the euphoria Ios gave, but in that moment, Laurent could admit to /needing/ a hug. Especially after that last conversation he’d had.

Fynn looked absolutely dashing with his new glow, the colour and the warmth the Akielon sun had given him. Laurent could imagine Fynn was having a wonderful time in Ios, whenever he could sneak away from Nikandros.

“Lucien delivered your letter,” Laurent informed him, taking Fynn’s arm and heading down the new path. “You feared I would not make time for you, yet you claim to know me so well.” He ‘tsked’ Fynn, only stopping when sand began to leak into sandals. They’d stepped on the beach, then.

They’d fallen right back into stride with each other, both physically and mentally, and Laurent was grateful for the familiarity after his talk with Jokaste.

“Tell me off your trip to Akielos so far,” Laurent prompted Fynn then, eyes ahead on the sea. “Have you had your fill of the Akielons yet?”

* * *

“I feared he would not allow you to make time for me,” Fynn corrected. He wasn’t all that sure that Damen /had/ allowed this, as he was off with Nikandros. Whatever they were discussing seemed to have taken longer than Nikandros expected, for he had said he would be back in a few hours, and it was almost time for the games.

He was all too happy to tell Laurent what he had been up to. of course it was only one night’s worth of events, but Fynn spared no details as he told Laurent about the lavish dinner at court, the Akielons who swooned over him and showered him with gifts and invitations to come to their homes. Nikandros was a constant presence, likely at Damen’s request, but Fynn didn’t mind it so much.

“Nikandros is a noble man,” Fynn said. “He loves Damen dearly, that much is clear. I am not sure he will ever see me favorably, but I may have convinced him to not completely loathe me.”

He turned to Laurent, his smile turning sly. “I slept with someone,” he boasted. “I must say that Akielons are thorough lovers. I have not slept so well since…well, I’m not sure.” He couldn’t stop smiling. The man he’d slept with had been young, around Laurent’s age, with dark curls and light eyes, and a very dirty mouth.

“And you?” he asked. “You were not at dinner last night. I heard a few rumors."

* * *

“Then I was not loud enough,” Laurent responded with a dry smirk, all too proud of himself for that.

Genuinely, he was happy to hear Fynn had found company - and good company, at that. Laurent would feel better when Fynn had found a happiness more long term, but Akielon trysts were one place to start.

“I have been thoroughly satisfied, and I am giving my body the break it deserves,” Laurent dismissed, not wanting to talk too much about himself and Damen. That did not seem to be what this talk had been intended for.

Laurent took a moment and eyed one of the many little area built along the beach, noted a familiar one he may have spent his entire day in yesterday. This was a royal path, then, that Fynn had seen before Laurent. His interesting.

“Was it a palace girl you slept with?“ Laurent inquired on what little information he had been given. “Or was it a man?”

* * *

Fynn laughed. “I think I’ve heard enough of you.” He could joke about it now that he’d slept with someone else, that the edge had been taken off his loneliness. If he didn’t think about it too deeply, he was still very much happy. It was nice to be wanted—the way he still wanted Laurent to want him, even if he said he’d gotten over it. Some days he had. Some moments. But it always came back.

“A man,” he said. “I believe you saw him yesterday, he was one of the first to greet me. About your age, light eyes. His name was…”

Oh, he’d forgotten.

Fynn laughed again. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I only had a few hours with him before Nikandros made it known I was to be back in the palace. But I've been invited to so many meals this week, I can’t imagine Nikandros will be coming with me if he intends to be Kyros of Ios.”

He stopped, gazing out over the sea. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being on the water.

“If things were different, I would take you out sailing,” he said, almost forlorn. His smile turned sad. “And by different, I mean if Damianos would not skin me alive for doing it."

* * *

And Damen would skin Fynn alive. They both knew that to be the truth. Better Fynn chase boys he could not name than try to take Laurent sailing.

“I would be useless on the sea, I think,” Laurent did confess when the hypothetical notion truly sank in. “The sun, the waves - I have never been in water I’ve had to tread in. I do not think I even know how to properly swim.”

It was a strange thing to realise to late in life. Laurent had only spent his time in the natural springs, the bath. He could not guarantee his ability to keep afloat should the opportunity ever arise.

“Though I suppose the idea is to /not/ go overboard?”

* * *

Fynn looked over to Laurent with wide eyes. “You don’t know how to swim?” He would slap Auguste if he were alive. “Forget sailing, that should be your first order of business here. Especially if you plan to live by the sea in any capacity.”

It made him nervous even this far up the shore, as though a ripcurrent might creep up the sand and whisk Laurent away. Fynn would not stand for it—there was simply too much to risk with a king not knowing how to swim.

“You were bathing in a lake you’d never been to, /alone/ and you don’t know how to swim?” Was Laurent /trying/ to kill him?

“You must tell Damen. He needs to fix this right away before you drown yourself.,” Fynn said. “You would be the type to drown rather than make a fool of yourself struggling for help, I know it."

* * *

“The lake came up to my chest,” Laurent replied with a roll of his eyes, not having said that to garner /worry/. “I am perfectly capable of learning to swim. I merely have not been given the opportunity.”

He bumped Fynn, hoping for poor footing to send him over in the sand, but he knew better than to think that.

“The moment I need to know how to swim, I’ll know,” Laurent promised with a sigh. “Do not add that to your list of worries. Between you and Damen, I’ll never have a moment of peace in anything I do.”

It was more true than he liked to admit.

And he was not cross about it in the least.

* * *

“You will not know,” Fynn said, exasperated. “If you are so confident, I’ll throw you off the dock and see how you fare in the waves. Then your beloved will strangle me with one hand while he pulls you from the water with the other.”

Damen was probably an excellent swimmer, and could probably keep Laurent afloat suring a storm if he so desired with his formidable frame and muscle. Fynn certainly knew how much power was behind a single fist.

“I am serious, Laurent,” Fynn said, turning to him. “It is a skill you must learn. It could very well safe your life one day.”

_I could teach you,_ he wanted to offer, but he knew he couldn’t. Damen would murder him. Even if Fynn had no sinister desire behind it, just Laurent’s safety.

“I will inform Nikandros to add that to your training regimen,” he said. “In the meantime, we should discuss your wedding—unless you’d rather wait until the ride to Marlas?”

* * *

“I would rather discuss the wedding,” Laurent groaned, not at all liking the sudden serious tone they’d taken. He admired and respected Fynn’s opinions, but this was hardly the time to speak in hypotheticals. The wedding was impending and very real. They should speak of it.

“I am very much ready for it,” Laurent went on, and the honesty was there. Jokaste had been right to think that there was a toddler that had more of a right to the throne than he. The whole heir thing was still very fresh.

So much so that, despite wanting it less than anything else in the world right now, Laurent brought it up.

“The heir is a great point of contention. Both the one living and the one I refuse to produce.”

* * *

Fynn was rather surprised Laurent was bringing up an heir on his own. But it was the right thing to be worried about, and it was Fynn’s worry too. It put Laurent in a position of weakness, especially with Kastor’s child still somewhere in Ios.

“So I will assume you and Damianos have not come to an agreement,” Fynn said, trying to assess the situation. It was difficult, especially when he knew Laurent had no intention of having a child of his own. He dimly wondered if Damen would even allow such a thing.

“The kingdom cannot end with you and Damianos,” Fynn warned. “It would fall to ruin upon your death. You must continue the line somehow. If the child is exiled, they will choose a distant cousin, or some sort of relative but even that will be a disaster—whose side to choose?”

He frowned. “An heir would make things much easier, and ease anxieties on both sides."

* * *

“Vere will fall to Damianos, if anything,” Laurent said, right in the defence, too used to having this argument now, “but I’ll not give either kingdom an heir, Fynn. I won’t.” Laurent couldn’t, and certainly if he could confide in anyone of that, convince /anyone/, it would be Fynn.

“No child will appease both kingdoms, anyway. It is not as if any child could be both Veretian and Akielon royalty in this configuration. There will always be one of us over the other. Vere will denounce his child, and Akielos would denounce mine.”

Laurent would not give them the chance.

“I’ve no line left, and I’ll not change that. As to what decision I make from there, I need /time/.”

And that would mean more time than he could ever be allotted, especially with Kastor’s child still within the palace.

“I would let Vere to Akielos before I ever brought another of my bloodline into this world.” Laurent glanced out at the sea, spotting the same boat he had seen yesterday in his time with Damen. It was beginning to be a calming symbol for him, always there when he spoke of /heirs/. “And I’ll not bond myself to any child. I’ve not the time or care to give to an infant.”

What he did not say was that what he lacked of the taint his uncle had, he was certain certain he would make up for in his father’s shortcomings. The path of parenthood was not for Laurent.

* * *

Fynn listened patiently, dissecting Laurent’s tone, his words. Sometimes he forgot that Laurent was so young. He had only experienced Vere in ruin since Auguste had passed. He didn’t know how healthy kingdoms worked. Damianos did. It was partly what made them such a powerful force—they knew both sides of the coin.

His heart twinged—Auguste would be heartbroken to hear his brother so afraid of having a child. Of raising one. He could guess why, between the Regent and Aleron.

“Your kingdom will be very different by the time an heir would be taking the throne,” Fynn reminded him. “Both councils will be dead, replaced with younger, open-minded leaders. The Kyroi will respect whomever has Damen’s approval. Akielons are changing, as are veretians. Your combined rule will change them further.”

The wedding would make the kingdoms so much better, especially once Laurent began to lose the stiff guard he had set within himself.

“You’ve bonded yourself to many children,” Fynn said. “Lucien told me about the pets you’ve helped away from your uncle, how you look out for those in need.”

He started walking again, gently tugging Laurent along. “But you are right, it will take time to come to a solution. However, first you must address Damianos.” He nudged Laurent’s shoulder with his own. “He loves you, Laurent. That much is clear. But he wants a child. If you never want an heir, if you never want to allow him a child, you need to tell him. You can’t marry him while allowing him to think there is a child in your future."

* * *

Fynn had made many great arguments in succession, but just one had negated them all. It nagged Laurent instantly, tugged at his heart in such a way that it rendered him speechless. He hid it well, but that did not mean he could clear it so easily from his mind.

Laurent wanted to point out that the children he had helped had hardly turned out better off than they had been with his uncle. One had found themselves in Ios, confused and lost and away from any friend or family that he might have, and the other had ended up as a head in a bag. Laurent may have been the /worst/ thing to happen to the both of them.

He nearly missed Fynn’s next point, ears focused on the crashing of waves, eyes focused on the middle distance in the sand.

He pulled himself back, cleared his throat and subconsciously gave Fynn’s arm a squeeze to ground himself again.

“I cannot break his heart again,” Laurent declared resolutely. “Not so soon.”

It would not be a dealbreaker, Laurent’s stance on children. Damen had known of it to an extent. The only reason it was back on the table was because of poorly translated Akielon and a desperate ploy of Laurent’s to keep Damen around. He would right it, but it did not need to be before the wedding, at the height of their happiness. Laurent was still gaining back that trust—

Trust he now realised he might lose if Damen saw /this/.

Shit.

“We‘ll be late for the games,” he said quite suddenly, knowing he had a rendezvous before it that would only serve to help him build that trust forward. “We should go back.”

* * *

“You really think it would be better to wait and break it later?” Fynn asked softly, his eyes full of sympathy. He himself wasn’t sure how he felt about children. He didn’t actively want a child, but he supposed he had always imagined himself having one later. His family legacy was important to him. Even if he ended up with a man, he would likely father a child with a woman sometime in the future.

He couldn’t imagine being in Laurent’s place, or Damen’s. To not want children but hurt his lover, to want a child and hurt his lover.

Fynn knew they had been out here for longer than they probably should have been. He nodded and they turned around, heading back to the palace. he kept the conversation on the games, how much the Akielons were looking forward to impressing him and his men.

Damen, though, was already heartbroken. He had sent for Laurent long ago, and his servant had not been able to find him. Laurent had not stayed within the walls, it seemed. Even Jord seemed to be occupied, though Damen suspected if Jord had left then that meant he was with Laurent.

Only one person could have kept him away.

Damen waited until he hear the loud trumpeting that signaled that the games would begin within the hour.

“Damen?” Nikandros stepped out into the gardens, looking a bit strained. “Did Laurent say where Fynn might have gone? I can’t seem to—“

Nikandros shut himself up upon realizing that Laurent wasn’t there because he’d never arrived, and that he’d just admitted Fynn was missing too.

Damen shook his head and nodded toward the direction of the arenas. “Let’s go. I’m sure they will find us.”

Secret notes. Now a secret rendezvous after they had weeks of travel together.

He left a bunch of white flowers on the ground in his wake, flowers he had meant to string into Laurent’s hair the way he had in Sicyon, to rest on the crown of laurels he was supposed to wear but probably wouldn’t have time to.

Nikandros looked down at the flowers. “Damen—“

“I said let’s go."

* * *

The moment his feet hit palace ground, Laurent parted from Fynn with a quick hug and a much quicker escape. He nearly lost his footing as sand from one sandal caught under the other in his haste to navigate himself to the gardens - which he knew about /in theory/, but technically did not know his way to or around.

It didn’t matter, of course. When he finally found his way to where Damen had been reported seen waiting for him, there was no Damen in sight. There was /no one/ in sight. Everyone had begun to move to attend the games—

Which Laurent also did not technically know the way to.

This was, among other things, just what he’d been trying to avoid. Now, on top of being late, he was wandering and having to ask for help to people who could not understand his accented Akielon. He managed to keep himself collected, but he could already feel his face moving into lines of frustration, anger even.

He’d not even spoken to Fynn about what he’d hoped to, had not exactly gotten the support he’d even desired, and now had the same problem of an heir weighing on him again, when all he wanted was to /be by Damen’s side/.

It did not go unnoticed to Laurent that, even on top of everything else, he had an impression to make at these games, and if Damen and he did not enter together, that impression might be ruined at the start.

The glory and the sun of Ios has already begun to fade on him.

Jord ultimately had been the one to collect Laurent from the king’s chambers where Laurent had gone in a last ditch effort to find Damen. Jord had given him the final blow of, “He is in the arenas, your highness.”

Even Jord knew when not to say any more.

Jord was always fascinated by how the young king could handle himself. In the bed chambers, Laurent had unmistakably given way to his worries, but when they finally entered the arenas, Laurent looked as if his tardiness was purposeful, as if he had no remorse, not a care in the world. He didn’t even give credence to small murmurings in the crowd as he parted from his guard and approached the dais, bowed his head in respect, and then took his seat at Damen’s side.

* * *

“Where is His Majesty?”’ one of the noblewomen asked as she selected a bunch of grapes from an offered tray.

Damen had taken his seat, all smiles. He knew that whatever had happened to his betrothed, he could not allow the kingdom to see it. The rumor of what had happened in Arles was only known by a few, and with yesterday’s greeting on the steps, it had started to be quashed. So long as they maintained an image of a happy couple….he wasn’t actually sure what that would accomplish at this point, but maybe he just wantedto believe it enough to continue.

“He is exploring Ios,” Damen explained cheerfully. “I was occupied all afternoon, so he was left to his own devices. I am sure he will be here shortly.”

Sure enough, Laurent appeared not long after, his nose slightly upturned, his body carrying every indication that he meant to arrive late.

“There you are,” Damen said, taking Laurent’s hand. “I worried that perhaps you had gotten lost. I waited in the gardens for you—where did you go?”

He said it with a smile, but his eyes were full of hurt.

“Is everything okay?” _Is everything okay with Fynn?_

Fynn entered with Nikandros a moment later, looking flushed and beyond thrilled. Damen suddenly felt ill. Nikandros pushed him on after he bowed to both him and Laurent, knowing full well that sticking around would only bring disaster.

* * *

Oh, to have been someone that had only heard Damen’s question and not had to look him in the eye.

“I found myself lost,” Laurent replied very honestly in his usual tone, one that would sound cordial and fond to any around them, but like Damen, he had the truth in his eyes. He /had/ gotten lost...it just happened to be that that was because he’d started on a new part of the shore that he did not know with Fynn at his side.

Laurent did not even have a crown on.

He squeezed Damen’s hand in a soft apology - one he would definitely explain later when there weren’t so many eyes and ears on them.

He didn’t know Fynn would enter in /after/ him and thus make his apology all the more needed...and difficult.

“I did find the gardens,” Laurent continued lamely, though he managed a straight back about it. “They are quite lovely. I can’t wait for the full exploration.”

* * *

Lost with Fynn. That was what Damen gleaned from that statement, especially when he could tell Laurent was telling the truth. He didn’t understand it. Laurent could have waited until dinner, spoken to Fynn then. Or found him immediately after Damen had left.

Maybe he had. Maybe it had just taken this long for them to finally part after talking about...whatever “close friends” talked about. He certainly didn’t write secret notes to Nikandros while they were under the same roof.

He had to close his eyes and take a breath when Laurent mentioned the gardens. He wondered how long ago he had ventured there, if Fynn had been with him then too in an attempt to make an excuse.

“Yes,” he said, unable to keep the hurt out of that single word.

He went on to introduce Laurent to the champions of the previous tournament that had taken place some months earlier. He pointed them out among the group of men standing near the edge of the arena and thought back to when Lucien had been made to look like him, tossed out among the people in humiliation.

“I’m not sure who will win,” Damen admitted. “I will have to watch both of them carefully. Whomever wins will face me, I am sure.”

He would also use it as his excuse not to talk to Laurent unless he had to, just to save face until they could be alone.

Though he had a feeling that would not go very well.

* * *

At least their act was not so transparent. People were watching them yes, but Laurent could tell the nature of their gazes, of their whispering. They were sill fixated on the rumours of yesterday, he could see it in their smirks. With the right presentation, Laurent could mark his lateness up to soreness or something along those lines. He shifted in his seat just for show, letting that take off where it needed to.

But the desire was gone from Damen, that was clear to see. The only reprieve they had there was that no one had seen Damen this morning, how badly he’d wanted Laurent. They had nothing to compare him to now, and for that, Laurent was grateful.

Had they the proper cover to do so, Laurent might have moved his hand up Damen’s thigh, might have touched him teasingly under his chiton in hopes of smoothing things over. Perhaps it was best he’d not been afforded that cover.

Especially if Damen had to ‘watch the warriors,’ which Laurent knew was only an excuse.

“Pallas,” Laurent identified aloud when he saw him down below, stretching in his small shred of clothing. He let himself sound impressed - which to be honest, he was. “Lazar will be proud.”

* * *

Damen found his anger dissipating with Laurent so close to him, clearly trying to offer some sort of forgiveness. He was still terribly hurt, but it was difficult to be angry. He’d been angry about all of this so much, time and time again. He was tired of it. Exhausted was a better term.

Pallas would do well, he knew. He would likely succeed in his fights, but Damen wasn’t so sure he would be facing him in the end. They had recently trained together in Arles, and Pallas had been rather lacking in defending his left flank.

He wanted Laurent to be proud of /him/. It was shallow, but a very real want. Laurent seemed to be straying from him already, despite everything. Perhaps yesterday’s sex hadn’t been what he wanted. Perhaps he was bored with lovemaking—he’d heard rumors that spouses tired of it. He had just assumed they would both tire of it together, gradually move toward other things. When they were much older.

Damen rested his head on a his hand where it was propped on his armrest, deflated. He couldn’t stop thinking about the note, the way Lucien rushed off, the way Fynn /smiled/ upon watching him leave.

“If you just did a better job of hiding it,” he said quietly, unable to help himself. “It’s like you want me to find out."

* * *

Damen’s head went down onto his hand, and in an act of what he hoped was comfort, Laurent found himself reaching into his beloved’s curls and casually massaging his scalp. He scratched lightly, truly unsure if this was even…./normal/. He had seen Lucien doing it to Jord on the road, and it seemed kind. Comforting. And this was a good time for it! People were taking note of it, and Laurent even saw the soft ‘aww’s of some of the servant girls as they surreptitiously motioned to their king and his companion with their eyes.

His hand stopped instantly when Damen spoke, and were it not buried in Damen’s hair, he would have made a fist.

“You could barely tell when I was drugged,” Laurent reminded Damen, his eyes focused on the games, his voice low. “I went an entire evening drunk and you did not even know it until I asked for your assistance in returning to my room.” That was all to say, “If I had something to hide, you know well that I could.”

He went back to his little comforting gesture, as if he had never stopped at all, his actions in complete juxtaposition to his tone which was not at all gentle. He was just quiet about it.

“But I promised honesty to you. Honesty and //trust/, Damianos.”

The crowd erupted into a cacophony of both cheers and boo’s when one of the Akielon soldiers hit the dirt hard, a practice spear at his neck. Laurent noticed the passing of coin.

“You treat me as if I am raising my dead brother’s son as my own blood alongside his traitorous mother despite your rightful wariness and insistence that I did not.”

And then Laurent pulled his hand from Damen’s hair to clap them, applauding the match’s victor with warm congratulations.

* * *

Damen knew it was all true. unfortunately, Laurent didn’t have a partner so clever. Laurent had kept his part hidden. Damen had grown though. He did understand that Laurent probably wasn’t stealing away to kiss Fynn in the shadows or to nuzzle his jaw—though he imagined those things frequently. He hadn’t told Laurent, but nightmares had plagued him while they were apart. Slow, agonizing ones where Laurent turned on him publicly, laughed in his face for ever thinking they were in love.

He was ready to say something verging on apologetic when Laurent hit him with /that/.

“Insistence that I did not?” Damen returned, not hiding his sharp tone amidst all the clapping. “I have hidden nothing from you. I told you about spending time with Cosmas—I wrote to you while we were apart, both before and after Arles. I spend no time with Jokaste, only her child, who I think deserves love and affection despite his parents' crimes. He is an innocent child.”

He didn’t care if people saw him angry, he would not allow Laurent to equate loving his nephew to infidelity.

He clapped too, then leaned back in his seat, unable to hide his hurt now.

“If you have nothing to hide, then why send secret notes? And why pretend you were not with him instead of me when you promised to see me?” he asked as the next two warriors took up their places. Damen could hardly keep tabs on what was happening in the ring, he could only focus on Laurent continuing to play these games.

“Tell me you would not raise Auguste’s child,” he dared. “Tell me you would throw it to the wolves or send it away. Truly think about it, Laurent. A child who carries your brother within him, who shares his smile and his nose, who needs a father but has no one. Who only has you as protection.”

He turned back to the games.

“He is my blood, whether you choose to accept that or not,” Damen said. Then, with finality, “I will protect him with my life."

* * *

Laurent kept his expression placid, unreadable, even as Damen turned to him, angry, and very open about it. Laurent had to be the one that held some sort of semblance of love and devotion down here, even if Damen doubted he had either at this point.

“I sent no secret notes,” Laurent chided, going about all the actions of an attendant to such games. His eyes followed the fighters, but he saw straight through them, he gave all the signs of giving them his full attention, even when it was Damen who had his. “And yes, I was with him for a brief amount of time, but I’ve nothing to hide of it. My tardiness, as I told you, was due to my being lost in a new palace as I warned you I would be.”

But the truth did not seem to matter here.

No, Laurent had crossed a line, but then, Damen was in the middle of doing the same. Bringing Auguste into /another/ argument struck just a nerve in Laurent that, for a moment, he dropped his act.

He drilled, dangerously so, and slid his eyes over to Damen.

“I would never subject Auguste’s child to this life,” Laurent replied matter-of-factly, repeating the same argument he’d given again and again. “I would never subject Auguste’s child to the life Cosmas will have. Protect him all you will, but know it will be because you will /have/ to, Damianos. Over and over, they will give you a reason to /have/ to protect that child.”

Laurent did not elaborate on the /they/, but to him, it was clear. The council, the people, supporters of Kastor and supporters of Damen alike. Anyone and everyone could be suspect to the ill treatment of that child.

And Damen wanted to play the martyr.

* * *

They were going in circles again. Laurent refused to see the wrong in his actions and Damen…supposed he was doing the same, but he doubted loving a child could equate. Laurent had never even seen Cosmas since his birth. He had no idea how happy that child was, how blissfully loving and unafraid he was. How much Damen loved him.

“Can you be on my side about anything anymore?” Damen replied, defeated. “Or have I truly become as stale as your enemies--that everything I say must be argued with?” He shook his head. "On second thought, don’t answer that question.”

A spear hit the dirt, and a grapple began between the two warriors below. Damen found himself hoping he would not be asked to fight. His limbs felt too heavy, the happiness and exuberance he’d woken with long gone.

He’d thought they were past this.

* * *

Not /everything/ Damen said warranted an argument.

For instance, his most recent accusation garnered him complete silence from Laurent - not an argument or so much as even a comment. Laurent’s throat was tight with a thousand things he wanted to say, his tongue consciously held still in his mouth as he fought to keep himself silent, fought to keep himself out of taking this any further.

Jaw set and bodily fitfully taut, Laurent kept his eyes ahead on the games, but his mind reeled. From his conversation with Jokaste to what Fynn had said /to help him/, and now this. After everything, now /this/.

Now.../this/.

He would /not/ do this. He would not have his outreach for assistance be equated to Jokaste literally raising a child alongside Damen to be raised as an heir at this very moment.

Which Damen had /still/ not confessed to.

“I did /nothing/ wrong,” Laurent murmured very suddenly, his voice low and almost strained as he continued to fight himself on speaking. But Laurent rarely lost fights - even the ones against himself.

“I followed the rules, I had the accompaniment, we spoke exclusively of country matters.” Ultimately anyway, but Laurent could hardly count a recap of their day in Ios as /scandalous/ or /wrong/. “I tried to find you in the gardens. Tried to find you in our chambers.” He spoke as if, bit by bit, he was finding the words, not at all like they had been pre-planned, rehearsed. They had now edge, and in fact we’re almost soft as he navigated through the response.

Laurent found the means to actually relax, to actually let his body free from the extreme posture he’d been holding it in.

“You do not have the right to beg for me by your side when you are not by mine,” Laurent stated very decisively then, eyes straight ahead on the yielding that would ultimately bring about the end of another match.

* * *

Damen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Surely Laurent understood that Fynn sending secret notes would make him upset, and they had agreed to meet in the gardens long before Laurent had apparently decided to show up. Damen had waited there as long as he could, trying to hold out hope that it was all a misunderstanding.

“Not by yours?” Damen said, incredulous. The words left his lips and were followed immediately by a roar from the crowd as one warrior bested the other, pinning him to his back and holding him to the dirt as the other struggled beneath him.

“Perhaps you forgot—"

He was interrupted by trumpeting, a signal that the first round of games was complete. Spectators stood, calling out to swaths of servants who entered with trays of food. Bets were placed as the next round of competition was prepared, and Nikandros subtly cleared the royal tent by asking Fynn to tell the nobles about Kemptian horses and food—outside.

Damen hardly noticed, his frustration evident, along with his sadness. “I don’t mind that you speak to Fynn. I know you don’t feel for him what you feel for me. And you did follow all of what I asked of you.” He swallowed hard. Maybe he /was/ a fool for being hurt by it all. Laurent’ hadn’t broken any rules, hadn’t truly gone against anything he had laid out.

Then why did he still feel so sick?

“Okay,” he said. “We will be done with it.”

But he would not forget.

* * *

“Done with it,” Laurent repeated with a dry, humorous laugh, an entire personality so unbefitting of who he had been upon arrival. He accepted a glass of water, still thinking about all he could have said to eviscerate Damen - and also to end his relationship with Damen and all of Akielos on one fell swoop. He sipped water just to silence himself, just so he wouldn’t bring up Jokaste, wouldn’t bring up Cosmas, the women about the palace. “Will we /ever/ be done with it?”

He tried to relax. Damen had said everything he’d wanted to hear, but he’d not meant a beat of it. Laurent supposed he could return that favour.

“I apologise for bringing up the boy,” he said before popping a small fruit into his mouth, grateful for there being no pit to spit. Laurent probably would have swallowed it at that point, just to keep his mouth closed, to keep himself from speaking out.

They both knew it was not the last they would hear about either.

“Are you ready to participate in the games this evening?” Laurent asked, voice still tight as he restrained himself. He was trying to be cordial, however. “You’ve been quite active these past two days. Are you certain /you/ are not too sore to play?”

* * *

Laurent was insufferable. Damen let out a snort at his laugh, trying his best to not devolve into an actual fight with Laurent. To think yesterday he had seen no possible way for them to be angry with each other. He loved Laurent with all of his heart, but he /hated/ it when he couldn’t see what was wrong with his actions.

“If I became incapacitated from fucking, I would never have fought a day in my life,” Damen muttered. “I am more than ready.” He looked over, trying to keep a cold gaze but ultimately failing. He loved Laurent too much.

“Will you even be proud when I win?” he asked, getting to his feet. “It isn’t worth the competition if the person I care about most is indifferent.”

He removed his crown, placing it on his throne as he gathered himself to prepare for the match. It wasn’t entirely fair—as e would be facing a fighter who had just fought another, but Damen was an established champion in his own right. He had earned his place at the top.

“I /will/ win, though,” he added. He cleared his throat. “But a kiss might help."

* * *

Laurent had never been one to be jealous of anyone’s grand history of fucking, but the comment could not have come at a worse time. Jokaste had succeeded in getting into his head, and Laurent had to shake it, and quickly. It had already gotten him into trouble once this evening, and fighting truly was not in his plans for the day.

But Damen’s question certainly pulled him out of his head, and his face instantly softened in what could have been confusion, but Laurent righted it just as quickly, before it could be read.

“I have never been afforded the luxury of indifference to you,” Laurent murmured, and though he presented it as a joke, his voice did not hold up to it. One argument, and Damen thought Laurent /indifferent/ to him? After the past few days? After everything? He thought Laurent loved Fynn and that he was indifferent to Damen, his lover, his husband-to-be.

It wasn't about him in that moment, but it did hurt.

“I am most vulnerable to your feats of strength,” Laurent did add in hopes of boosting something in Damen, himself be damned. It was a truth, and he did present it as such, but he was aware nothing might sound truthful in this now.

At least he hoped his kiss felt genuine when he pulled Damen down for it, fingers back in his hair, giving anyone who wanted to watch an eyeful of two lovers who were definitely not angry at each other or fighting in any way.

* * *

Something changed in Laurent, at least. Damen tried to feel happy about it, but it was more a release of pressure than anything else. He found it hard to see truth in Laurent’s words right now, despite everything. He certainly felt like Laurent was indifferent if he could get lost in conversation with Fynn and forget about the man he was going to marry when they hadn’t seen each other in weeks.

And it wasn’t like Damen thought Laurent was indifferent to him /all/ the time, but it seemed that when it was convenient for Laurent to drop his affections, he did so. To save face, to be something more to his people—Damen didn’t actually know why. He pretended to, but he couldn’t understand.

He brought a hand up to Laurent’s face, caressing there softly. His skin was smooth as ever, delicate and so easily marked. He returned the kiss with equal affection, but there was a lump in his throat.

“And I am vulnerable to this mouth,” he said, brushing noses with him. “And those eyes, and these hands.” He took Laurent’s hands in his own and pulled back, more relaxed but still disheartened.

Perhaps he needed to focus less on his physical relationship with Laurent. Perhaps that was why Laurent always sought Fynn so happily, because Fynn, though clearly still in love with Laurent, never asked more of him than his arm.

“I will see you after,” Damen said. “I am sorry for fighting. I really am happy to have you here and I can’t wait to show you the gardens properly."

He lifted Laurent’s hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to the back of his palm, and slipped out of their canopy to find Nikandros waiting.

“I will keep better eye on—“

Damen shook his head. “Fynn is allowed to see Laurent if he wishes, just as Laurent is allowed to see him.”

Nikandros frowned, but didn’t argue. Instead he sighed. “Come, then, we’ll get you ready for the ring."

* * *

  
“I look forward to seeing the gardens properly,” Laurent countered, a little more of sorts after a proper kiss. He could always rely on that, he realised. The physical aspect of their relationship always seemed to outshine the rest—

He didn’t mean it that way.

He and Damen did love each other, but from what Laurent had learned, the physical happened to be the more constant, more appreciated—

Laurent did not mean that either.

The kiss made him feel better. That was it.

“Your Majesty,” one of the attendants stepped forward once Damen was away, offering Laurent another water and a sunshade should he like to step out and see the fight any better. It was a woven thing, flat, that had a handle she could hold over him, but Laurent assured her he was fine. His seat had a perfectly good view, and he did not want put too much pressure on his champion. She seemed to understand and stepped away, and it was only then that Laurent saw the woman standing across the way, hands at her chest, clearly cheering the man currently locked in battle.

Laurent could never be that person.

Alone on their dais, Laurent felt very on display. Without Damen there to buffer the gazes, he knew he was taking them all on forthright and alone. He felt their gazes, noticed them muttering, but he kept his eyes below, watching For Damen as an attentive lover would—

And as someone genuinely interested, as Laurent was.

* * *

Damen more or less forgot about the fight with Laurent once he was among the fighters. Instinct and routine took over, sweeping him up in the order of things as he began to warm himself up, stretching and practicing grapples with Nikandros, who caught a weak spot on him that Damen reminded himself to correct in the ring.

The first few matches went by easily, and Damen was happy when Pallas showed that his training had paid off, and surprisingly made his way into the final contention to face Damianos. Damen would never admit it, but there was a chance that Pallas might actually beat him, because if he couldn’t focus completely on the fight, his lack of consistent training would be the end of him.

When it was time and he was sufficiently warm, he stepped to the edge of the arena and stripped, as Pallas did on the opposite side. Attendants applied a thin coating of oil and he rocked his head from side to side, sinking the pads of his feet into the sand. The crowd went quiet in his ears as he focused solely on Pallas.

The fight began moments later, both men circling each other, waiting to see who would strike first.

It was a good show. Pallas nearly pinned him several times, but Damen was ultimately stronger, so he was able to muscle past him on a strong hit and find the weak spot he’d tracked earlier: Pallas’s left side.

Both men were scuffed and panting, but Damen helped him up and gave him a firm slap to the shoulder. The crowd roared their applause, throwing more flower petals and colored confetti.

Damen thanked Pallas for the match with another hug and a ruffle to his hair before turning to Laurent with an adrenaline-induced grin, their fight momentarily forgotten, simply anxious to see pride in Laurent’s eyes.

* * *

For Laurent, there still was nothing that gave him so strong a thrill as watching Damen fight. His size and strength were something that had both impressed and bewildered Laurent early in their relationship and had carried on until this moment. Laurent admired him, affixed not on all the parts that others might eye when Damen was nude (Laurent had no need to), but just on his overall presence. Damen was a model warrior, a flawless champion.

And Laurent could not hide his warm smile as his beloved absolutely /crushed/ Pallas before the congregation of their people - showed both Veretian and Akielon alike his strength, his power - and, when the fight ended, his virtue when he treated his opponent with kindness, with respect.

Laurent could not take his eyes off of him.

Pride might have been evident in Laurent’s gaze, but it came second to awe, and third to desire.

He rose in his seat, moved towards the front of the dais—

Just in time to hear the beginnings of a crowd-wide commotion.

Cheers and celebration have way to screams, to shouts, and Laurent pulled his gaze from Damen and - in his scan of the crowd - happened right upon the cause for panic.

One of the hands on the field, tasked with laying down hay and returning weapons to the armoury after the games, had taken up a spear. It was an act completely expected of him and his responsibilities. The commotion came from the fact that the boy - familiar now that Laurent had caught him in the act - had righted the spear into a proper throwing hold, aimed directly at the Veretian king at the dais.

Korus let the spear fly.

Laurent supposed he had expected this. He may even have deserved it.

* * *

  
Laurent was not indifferent now. Damen was thankful that the look of desire on Laurent’s face was so shocking, otherwise he might have exposed the entire gathering of people to something…well, something they probably wanted to see, if he was being honest. He wasn’t blind to the looks he earned in the ring.

He heard the first scream from a woman on the sidelines, and Damen—being arguably the best soldier in the kingdoms—whipped his attention to one of the hands who had run out to clear the ring. He instantly recognized Korus, but could not match that image with the one he saw now: a boy hefting a spear at Laurent.

Damen was already a few paces toward his beloved, and when he saw Korus throw the spear, time seemed to slow. He didn’t think about anything, but suddenly the spear was in his hand, held high above his head from where he’d snatched it in midair. Korus was a poor shot with little speed behind him.

Korus had been trying to kill Laurent. In public.

He wouldn’t have succeeded even without his spear being caught, but Damen didn’t care about that as he swung the spear down with all his might and cracked it against Korus’s slender legs. Korus screamed in agony, legs buckling at once.

Damen kicked him square in the sternum, stomping him flat onto his back in the dirt with a whump.

“You will not see the light of another day,” Damen snarled out in Veretian. He tucked the tip of the spear right at the top of Korus’ abdomen, ready to slip it up under his ribcage and shear his heart in two.


	15. Chapter 15

Laurent hadn’t thought to close his eyes, had not thought to really move his gaze, or his body for that matter. There hadn’t been time, not with how time had slowed. Just breathing had been like trying to run in a nightmare, slow and stunted, delayed, pointless, so the idea of moving was futile.

But Laurent didn’t have to move.

With the spear’s trajectory, it would have hit Laurents shoulder - not by choice. Korus had the height to get Laurent right in the face, but his aim was still off. They would need to work on that. All that aside, in one moment, there was a spear bound headlong in his direction, and the next, it was in Damen’s hand, held aloft. The air left Laurents lungs in both the usual relief that another attempt on his life had been thwarted, and shock at what Damen had - yet again - done. The impossible. To save /him/. And Damen had saved him. Again.

And Laurent wished he had the time to be grateful.

“Damen!” Laurent rushed forward, barely even kicking up the sand in the ring with how quickly he moved. He basically collided with Damen when he made it across the field, but he managed to stop himself, both hands on Damen’s arm, needing both to try to stop one arm. “Damen, no—“

The crowd was in fits around them. People were advancing, but not wanting to approach their King unless it was necessary. Not when he was trained on a kill. In the stands, people were gasping, some were shouting, no one knew what to think.

“He’s a child,” Laurent reminded Damen, and that got him spat at. It only hit his ankle.

“I am /not/,” Korus hissed, but despite his rage and very bold actions, he was crying. He was afraid.

The crowd had fallen into chants of ‘kill him, kill him,’ and other aggravated cries, and Jord had finally pushed in, his hands boldly on Laurent’s arm.

“You should not be here,” Jord insisted, and though Laurent moved, it was to put his hands on the spear, to try to gently pull it away from Damen.

“He is mine to deal with,” Laurent continued decisively, looking straight at Damen. “You cannot kill him."

* * *

Damen stilled only because Laurent called his name, but he was more than ready to finish the job. His face was twisted into a dark scowl, bearing down on the boy he had invested in, had trained himself. Korus was wily, but he’d been bullied by the Akielon boys for it, slammed in the dirt more than a few times for getting mouthy, but Damen had never suspected that he would ever try to kill /Laurent/.

When Korus spat, Damen jabbed the spear into his skin, puncturing him just a fraction. Korus screamed again, and Damen had to fight every urge to press just a bit harder on the spear, to disembowel him for even daring to come after his king.

“He lost his childhood when he picked up this spear,” Damen snarled, still poised for the kill. The only thing that broke his focus was Jord’s voice, the concern in it. He looked over to Laurent, checking him over for blood or other signs of injury, even though he knew full well that the spear hadn’t reached him.

He met Laurent’s eyes, assessing him. He didn’t look frightened. With a reluctant sigh, Damen tossed the spear aside. He moved to lift his foo and Korus took his chance, scrambling onto his belly—

Damen grabbed a fistful of his hair and wrenched him up to his knees. Korus clawed at his hands, his blunt fingernails raising pink marks on Damen’s skin.

“Give him to me,” Jord insisted, stepping forward.

Damen let go.

Jord wasn’t kind about tying Korus’s hands, which satisfied Damen enough to finally turn away. Pallas brought him a chiton, and Damen wrapped himself in it as the crowd pushed closer, hungry for blood. Pallas assisted in keeping the crowd at bay, but Damen didn’t want to tempt any other would-be assassins.

He reached through the crowd to grab Laurent’s arm, pulling him in close, protective. “We need to leave,” Damen said in Veretian. Things were getting dangerous, and Damen wasn’t armed.

* * *

Laurent had come all the way to Ios, and it was still a Veretian who tried to take his life. How terribly fitting.

Korus was not a murderer. He was barely more than a child, even with all the training Damen and the Akielons had given him. He’d been a pet before this, raised on fine foods, fine nights, having never dirtied his hands, never had to make a real decision for himself.

But oh, had he done both of those today.

Korus cursed him, screamed at him, but Laurent could understand very little of it through his snot and the crowd’s outcry. It wasnt exactly the time to try to make right with this boy, and Laurent would not have anyway. Even someone like Korus would need time to ruminate on a murder attempt.

“Treat him kindly,” Laurent told Jord, speaking as softly as he could over the crowd, trying to keep it between the two of them. Laurent did not want it to seem that he would react lightly to attempts on his life, but Korus was a special case - one Laurent held more empathy towards than most attempts on his life. It was only after he turned away from Korus, his crying and his sobbing, that Laurent realised what a perfect time it would be for an Akielon’s attempt on his life should they so desire it.

He had hold of Damen’s chiton not a moment later, hastily following him out of the arena. They were accompanied by guards of both their factions, but no one made to follow them anyway. The crowd had become much more interested in Korus, which Laurent watched back on to make sure he was escorted out safely. He knew then that he would have to turn his attention to Damen who, most likely with his track record, would have enough adrenaline pulsing through him to rip a door from its hinges should it stand in his way.

Laurent stopped him in the hall with a hand to his chest, motioned for the guards to give them some space. They afforded them very little.

“You’re terribly dusty,” Laurent said to him first, tying to diffuse whatever he could from the past few-- really the entirety of this day so far. “Are you alright?"

* * *

Damen wouldn’t have put a stop to a mob ready to draw blood, but lucky for Korus, he was distracted in getting Laurent to safety. He kept an arm around him, shielding him as best he could from anyone who might strike. It would make sense for Korus to be a distraction, for a more skilled assassin to use the commotion to sink a blade into Laurent’s neck.

“I’m all right,” Damen assured him when they stopped. He pulled Laurent to him, holding him close for a moment just to make sure he was really there. That he didn’t have any blades sticking from his back or blood letting from his collar.

He kissed Laurent’s hair. “I want him killed,” Damen said against the crown of his skull. “We tried. it is clear his being here has done him no good. It is time to be rid of the problem—he tried to kill a king in full view of a crowd.”

Damen stepped back.

“To our chambers. I don’t want to be out in the halls until the commotion has died down."

* * *

“His king has been dead for almost a year,” Laurent tried to calm Damen, tried to bring him down from his decision. It made sense, of course, his desire to have Korus punished by death for his crime - it would have been the case for anyone else. But Laurent couldn’t allow it, couldn’t allow the boy to be killed. He was young, had been manipulated, and had likely been making great progress in Akielos - as Damen had said! - but Laurent had been a sore reminder of his past. To him, Laurent would have deserved to die.

But they could hold that conversation for the bedchambers. It was best to move to safety.

Laurent imagined he would not be roaming Ios unaccompanied for some time.

“You will need a bath,” Laurent said to Damen the moment the guards had shut tight the doors, leaving them alone in a safe imprisonment in their chambers. They would be let out when the chatter died down, when the crowd calmed. There would be new chatter, of course, of Korus’ bold decision, but Laurent would handle that as he needed to.

“Thank you.”

Laurent did not thank Damen enough for all he did, for all he put up with, and despite their earlier spat, he did mean it. “Thank you for,” he cleared his throat, “catching that spear, and sparing the boy. I am grateful."

* * *

Damen didn’t allow himself to relax until they were safely in their chambers. Even so, Damen didn’t go to Laurent right away, he instead strode through the apartments in search of anyone who might have been hiding away, just waiting for them to come here. But there was only sea breeze and the cool winds of evening sifting through the curtains.

He turned back to Laurent when he was thanked, confused. Perhaps they really had fallen that far, far enough that Laurent was treating him like Damen wasn’t supposed to protect him, like they were back at the beginning.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Damen said, ending his search for murderers to return to Laurent. He kissed his cheek. “You would have done the same. You have.”

He moved back to wipe at his cheek, where arena grit still plastered itself there.

“You would have me bathe?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “And wipe away the evidence of my match that I won for you?

* * *

“I’ve plenty evidence of that match in my memory,” Laurent would have chuckled but joking didn’t seem /right/ right now. Instead, he merely muttered it, reaching up to flick another piece of plaster from Damen’s arm. Pallas had not even knocked him down, and he’d come out like this.

“And I’ll not forget that catch any time soon,” he added. He laid his hands down on Damen’s chest and smoothed then over his skin, up around his shoulders, around his neck to hold him close.

Damen was so tall, a scale study next to Laurent who had seemingly peaked in his height at the age of sixteen. He’d been a slightly taller sixteen-year-old, but he’d stayed average from there out. Next to Damen, he imagined he might as well have peaked at nine. Korus would be taller than him when he was of age.

“He is a good kid,” Laurent could not help but say aloud, unable to just blast past it. It needed to be discussed. “You did wonderfully with him. Just as...” He hesitated for a moment before giving in with a signed, “...you’ll do wonderfully with Cosmas if you are so stricken with need to do so.”

It was not the end of that conversation, but a button for now - an acknowledgement that Laurent had not forgotten and...would try to understand. But he would not help, and that child would not be an heir. It would end their union - not by Laurent, but by his people when the heir of the man in league with the manipulatively, terrible man who ended the reign of Aleron and Auguste in one day took the throne. A bastard of Damen’s would fare better.

Laurent did not seem too broken up about it when he went on to say, “/I/ am the problem.” It was a mere statement of fact, that was all.

* * *

Damen wasn’t quite ready to hear about Korus being a good kid when he’d just tried to kill Laurent at a public gathering, but he accepted the praise that came after. And, somehow, he had convinced Laurent that Cosmas was not whatever he had thought before. Damen smiled wide.

“I am stricken, yes,” he replied, settling his arms around Laurent’s waist, feeling the pressure of his slender frame against his forearms. Laurent had so much power in his body—it was something Damen admired and found attractive in him. His good heart was another, even if he didn’t like who it was directed at at the moment.

“You saved him,” Damen said. “You are not a problem. Thought I do feel we could both do better in communicating things.” He cleared his throat. “For example, I could have been more clear about how I feel about my nephew.”

He had thought he was making it quite clear, but evidently not.

“And I was recently thinking that perhaps I am damaging our relationship by focusing too much on physical affection. Would you agree?"

* * *

“You have made it very clear how you feel about your nephew,” Laurent assured him, and he meant for it to be light, but he knew it had not come off that way. He heard the sigh in his voice where he had hoped for a chuckle. But what happened today had been a shining example, and maybe even a warning, of exactly what would happen with Cosmas, without a doubt. Laurent did not know what rage could be stronger - that which came after a lover was slain, or that which came after a father was slain. Laurent had only experienced one, and he never hoped to understand the other.

A conversation for later. This was hardly the time to start another argument between them, and Laurent knew that was exactly what would happen if they started down that road again.

But Damen had another conversation in mind, it seemed, which Laurent thought it was quite valuable to have now.

“It depends on the physical affection you mean,” Laurent replied, and this time, he managed a lightness to it all. “I do not think there is an issue in /our/ physical affection, unless you see an issue I do not?” And Damen might. Laurent had started strong in his return to Ios, but even today, his physical affection had waned when he denied Damen a romp in the sculpting room. Damen may well have seen issue in that. “I am open to constructive criticism,” Laurent smiled, hoping Damen would take that as an honest opening to say whatever he felt he needed.

“Unless it is not /our/ physical affection you are focusing on?”

* * *

“I see an issue,” Damen said, trying to keep his voice equally light. “And I think the issue is me.” It was nice to hear that Laurent didn’t see anything wrong with the state of things, but he also felt Laurent placated him more often than not.

“It is difficult for me to express my love to you in ways that...” He searched for the words. “In ways that perhaps you would prefer.”

He knew he must be lacking something if Fynn was such an easy decision for Laurent. He knew Laurent didn’t love Fynn in the way he loved him, but they could talk for hours—they lost track of time. Damen had to interrupt talking with kisses or fucking, if they spoke too long they ended up fighting.

Perhaps things were worse than he thought.

“I know that physical affection is something you enjoy, but...do you? Truly? Because sometimes I feel that...” He wasn’t sure how to say it, so instead he sighed.

“There is clearly something I lack that he has,” Damen said quietly. “I would like to know what it is so I may address it.”

* * *

Laurent had no doubts this would boil down to Fynn. He’d watched Damen dance around it, ultimately following his trail right down to the real issue here. Laurent was just grateful they’d made it down to it so quickly - without argument.

“It is not what you lack, but what /he/ lacks,” Laurent made clear first and foremost. “And that is bias. He can…” Laurent had to think of the right word, “--handle me in a way that you cannot. We - you and I - have more hanging on an argument than he and I do. Its the loss of friendship versus the loss of friendship /and/ love. A different kind of love.” Laurent, who had been staring thoughtfully off as he chose his words, settled himself back on Damen with a look that read, ‘Does that make sense?’

“And I am not /against/ physical affection at all,” Laurent went on to clarify next. “I have my own hesitancies with physical affection - that I would say I am overcoming more and more every day.” He would give himself that. “But I am not against it. If you are referring to what happened /today/,” Laurent went on, “/that/ was a decision made of necessity. You had meetings, and /I/ needed to explore so that /I/ did not travel around like a lost fawn - which I did anyway,” Laurent finished matter of factly.

“But yes, Fynn admittedly lacks the stakes you do - /we/ do, and that does make it…easier to speak with him from time to time. It has nothing to do with the physical - as there /is/ no physical.” Not anymore, and he hoped Damen understood that. “I cannot so easily ask you your opinions on /us/ in such a way I can ask an outsider. And,” Laurent moved his hands in such a way that had no meaning - small, little indecisive circles, “He is the only friend I have."

* * *

Damen found that he actually understood what Laurent meant. Fynn was his Nikandros, truly. Even so, Damen couldn’t help but feel that Laurent had something special with Fynn, some kind of genuine connection that others could see. Fynn clearly loved him still—Damen saw it in he way he smiled, the way he always stayed so close while they spoke.

One thing kept sticking, though.

“You do know that one argument between us will never…you will never lose me because we argue—you do know that, right?” Laurent didn’t have the experience with relationship that Damen did—all of this was new for him even years on. “The reason our union was endangered was because I saw you kiss another man. I thought you had gone to him behind my back. I thought you loved him. That is the only reason and…I know it has caused tension between us that has not been resolved, and I am truly sorry for that.”

But it still hurt. He still saw Fynn’s lips against Laurent’s, sill saw Laurent tip his head up for that kiss, unaware that he was sitting not ten paces away.

“I know that you do not love Fynn, I know that. I know he is your friend.” He held Laurent a little tighter to him, looking out at the city beyond his open windows, the lights glimmering all over the horizon as Ios settled into night. The city was still very loud, and Damen knew things were not yet safe.

“But it is so painful,” Damen whispered, almost not saying it at all. “Each time I see you two together—and knowing he is sending notes to you—“

He didn’t want to rehash their argument from earlier.

“I am not trying to be difficult,” he said softly.

* * *

Of all the ways it could have gone, Laurent did not mind this way /so/ much. He wished they could have found a way for this to end where Damen had not been hurt, but Laurent could understand that it was impossible. Fynn had hurt Damen - /Laurent/ had hurt Damen. It served him right to be reminded of it after what he’d done to Damen, to be inconvenienced by it - he deserved it!

Damen did not.

“I do know that,” Laurent assured Damen, not wanting him to feel at fault in this. There had been a time where Laurent had feared he would, in fact, lose Damen over an argument. It seemed like a good enough reason to leave someone then, but Laurent had slowly come to learn that, to love someone, you did not need to have every moment be sweet, to have every idea and opinion in common, did not need to be the /same/ person.

Such a realisation had made him feel young.

He hated it.

But not more than he hated seeing Damen like this.

He pulled Damen in close, stood on his toes to rest his head on Damen’s shoulder properly, took advantage of Damen’s strength to keep him steady.

“To be transparent,” Laurent began, “the note you saw today had been the first note he’d ever sent me.” Laurent pointed nosed against Damen’s shoulder in the direction of his trunk of things. “I threw it right over there, when I returned to our chambers to find you. Should you feel the need to read it.” But he knew Damen wouldn’t leave this hold right away to do so.

“But I understand that isn’t the real problem here,” Laurent did add, pressing a kiss to Damen’s cheek and holding it a second before settling on his chin again, staring across the room.

“I used to feel pain every time I looked at you,” Laurent murmured quietly, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment. “Every time I saw you, it twisted everything inside of me. But through your bravery, and your loyalty and your strength and your...many feats and miracles, that pain was replaced with love. A lot of it. And I want to be able to return that favour to you, to replace...all of that is something better.”

Laurent realized he was /still/ doing a lousy job of it.

* * *

Damen readily accepted Laurent into his arms, holding him securely. It relieved him to know that today’s note had been the first. Damen wasn’t sure what he would have done if he’d come across a box full of notes, letters written for Laurent, not for his eyes to see. But Laurent was giving him permission to read the note he’d seen. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to bring himself to do it.

As Laurent spoke, he looked out at his home city. He never thought he would have the chance to stand here with Laurent, to have a chance to be two happy kings who could marry each other. A kingdom and this. Somehow, they were figuring it all out.

“I love you,” Damen said. “I learned to love you over time, and my feelings for you ambushed me. I think I have told you before that it was never my intention to fall for you, and when I did, I thought there would be no chance you would want me back.”

He squatted slightly to lower his hold, then lifted Laurent by the backs of his thighs and carried him to bed. He was tired of standing, and tired of Laurent being clothed.

“I still feel that shot of heat whenever you look at me,” Damen chuckled as he set Laurent on the plush mattress. “And I very much liked the way you looked at me after I won.”

He unfastened his chiton, allowing it to drop to a white heap at his feet.

“Did you know that a royal may choose to sleep with a champion?” he asked. “If he is to their liking, of course. Woman or man. In fact, there are even special provisions that allow a child born of a queen or princes by a champion to bear a legitimate child from the union, though they would not be an heir.”

It had happened long ago. A way to keep royal bloodlines strong.

Damen lifted his arms slightly, as he had when attendants had oiled him for his fight.

“Inspect me,” he instructed with a sly grin. “Tell me if I would be one you would call to bed."

* * *

Laurent liked when Damen lifted him, liked being able to look down on him for once. The top of Damen’s head was a mystery to Laurent, and instantly upon being lifted - and knowing he did not need to hold on to assist Damen - he tousled Dame’s hair at the top, left it a swirl of loose curls in a nest before he was lowered to the bed and no longer had access to the curls,

It was then that he held on to Damen’s neck however, not letting him go for an annoying amount of time just to be a nuisance, to give him that same look Laurent knew he had after Damen had won that competition. The look had not changed - even with an attempt on his life and a painful discussion between them. Laurent was still impressed, still proud to say Damen was his.

He let Damen go to free himself of his chiton and, still dressed himself, Laurent leaned back on the bed, watching, listening to an actual interesting piece of history Laurent had not known about. He supposed it made sense. Veretians fought with flair, with skill - Akielons had strength bred into them, much like the Vaskians. Laurent would make no good heirs here, either.

Not that he ever thought he would.

With a little sound of effort, Laurent propped himself up on his elbows and gave Damen the first once-over, inspecting him with an arched brow. He could play this little game.

“You are certainly large enough,” he started, sitting upright and moving to the edge of the bed to sit before Damen, inspecting him like one might a prized animal. His fingers started at Damen’s stomach, walked up the planes of his muscles, teasingly digging in to flesh every so often before he made some comment or another praising Damen’s physique.

“These are nice,” Laurent made sure to comment when his fingers found Damen’s piercings, praising himself and his decision making in that moment. He kept his smile back, his face calm and unreadable as he played his little role. And he took his /time/, running his hands down Damen’s arms, his thighs, traced the veins that ran up his forearms, felt all the way down to his finger tips.

Laurent sat back on the bed, angled on his hands, and tilted his head.

“I will be honest,” Laurent began with his evaluation, “You are a magnificent champion - a specimen of Akielos - but you are /very/ large.” Keeping a straight face was Laurent’s strength, and he managed it well, keeping himself as disinterested as he could….while also allowing a little warmth in his eyes. “I fear your offspring would find no life in me, and I would have to blame you for that amongst the courts should they doubt me.” Laurent smirked then, hands on Damen’s hips, eyes as innocent as Laurent could ever get them. /That/ was a task.

* * *

Damen allowed himself to fall into the fantasy of the moment. That he was a prized champion, selected by the King of Vere for approval, the chance to bed him. Had there been such a game in Vere Damen would have tried it had he and Laurent met under different circumstances. A chance at seeing that look on Laurent’s face...perhaps he could have beefed him even in that scenario.

He was silent as Laurent inspected him, smirking occasionally when he made a comment about his muscle or dug his fingers into him. He did his best not to flinch or jerk, trying to be as calm and collected as a warrior should be when looked at by a king.

But he did shiver when Laurent’s fine fingers traces his piercings.

“They have become quite a topic of conversation,” Damen admitted. “It has since died down since my arrival, but everyone wonders where they are from, and who I may have let pierce me.”

He remained still as Laurent continued his appraisal, watching his face as he looked over his body with quiet desire.

“Thankfully I am not here to provide any offspring,” Damen murmured, daring to lift a hand to tip Laurent’s head back slightly, then turning his jaw just a bit as if returning an examination.

“I’m here to service you,” he said in a low voice. “As your champion.” He cocked his head slightly, looking down through his lashes. “Will you—“

There was a small commotion outside of the doors, the yelling of guards that sounded like confusion between Akielon and Veretian alike. Damen kept his fingers at Laurent’s jaw, listening. It died down a few moments later, but his heartbeat was still thrumming in his chest all the same.

“Your decision,” Damen continued. He folded his free hand over one of Laurent’s at his hip, and gently moved it down and over, following from his jutting bone to where he hoped his king would want to touch.

* * *

Service him? Laurent would point out that Damen did that nearly all the time. It almost seemed like the place to bring up that perhaps /Laurent/ should be doing more of the serving, but he knew better than to do that now. Not in the middle of such a game.

Jaw in Damen’s hand, Laurent cast his eyes over to the door when the commotion hit his ears. He couldn’t make out anything past his beating heart and the thick walls of the bedchambers, but once it died down, Laurent could imagine it had only been a dispute about placement, about who had really been called for to protect the chambers. These men were not on the same rotation as they had been in Arles, and probably did not know each other as well as the Coe guard Laurent had set. They would figure it out in time, but that was not Laurent’s focus right now.

He turned his attention back to his beloved, and as prompted, let his hand be led to exactly where Damen wanted it. He joked about Damen’s size frequently, but Laurent thought about it more than he would ever admit to. It was the first thing anyone noticed about Damen, and it said a lot about him - the fact that he could be /so/ intimidating, /so/ imposing, and yet he chose to be kind and helpful said so much about who he truly was.

That all being whimsically said, his cock was as large as he was, and Laurent still found himself needing to process that every time he /saw/ it.

Most of the time, when it was just slid inside of him, Laurent did not notice, but when he was this close, nearly with it to its face, he thought he deserved a minute amount of praise for taking it.

He pumped a dry hand over the length a few times, just genuinely admiring for a moment, before he thought of a better way to show his praise for Damen. Laurent squared himself a little more proudly and, with a little breath, he descended. He tilted his head down and, without hesitation, licked the head in one playful, flat-tongued swipe, eyes instantly back up on Damen to test the waters as he did it again. And again. The third time, he closed his lips around the head and swirled his tongue, keeping mindfully aware of Damen’s movements.

It was not made clear if his decision had to be verbal.

* * *

For a moment Damen was lost in the game. He’d been in Laurent’s place serval times, evaluating a warrior or champion to see if he could come to bed. He wasn’t all that picky of a prince, but he had learned from Kastor that they enjoyed scrutiny, that it made them feel like they were truly something he wanted to vet, like his bedsheets were not for everyone. They weren’t, and especially not now. Now the only person who was allowed there was right in front of him, palming his cock.

Words could not describe what it did to him to have Laurent lick his cock. Damen shivered at the warm wetness against the head of his length, tempted to grab Laurent but the hair out of habit. But he restrained himself, knowing that doing so would be akin to cruelty after Laurent had warned him so many—

“Laurent,” he gritted out, unsure what to do with his hands. When he felt a mouth around him he moaned a bit too loudly. He hoped the guards didn’t hear, but they were a bit far off. They were probably okay.

He slowly, carefully, moved his hand to Laurent’s cheek. Once settled there, he gently guided Laurent off of him, though his body very much wanted it to continue. His eyes were dark with lust, but Damen wanted this to be mutually exciting, mutually invigorating. He wanted to continue the game.

“I’m the one who is supposed to be servicing /you/,” Damen reminded him, finally moving over Laurent and into bed. “How can I prove that my strength and prowess is real, hm?”

He finally allowed himself to kiss Laurent’s cheek, nuzzling him affectionately.

“I will always keep you safe,” he promised. “Always."

* * *

Laurent had seen Damen’s hand coming at him, so he did not start, merely followed its prompting /off/ of Damen’s cock. He did not take it personally. Laurent knew he was quite good with a cock in his mouth, and could see Damen’s wariness was based in something else, so he let Damen fall from his mouth, and he sat back up, wondering just what it might be.

Laurent wished he could say he was not a /touch/ relieved.

He’d wanted to do it, to pleasure Damen properly, if it still did make his heart pound a little heavier than he would have liked, and with the whole no-touching rule, it was hardly romantic.

Not like Damen looking him in the eye and telling Laurent he would always protect him was.

“I know you will,” Laurent smiled, rolling over to Damen and, perhaps surprisingly for him, taking Damen’s cock right back in his hand and stroking lazily as they spoke. “You always have.”

Laurent kissed him, brought himself closer to Damen to throw his thigh over Damen’s hip, still stroking him, albeit a little awkwardly, before he pulled away just to say, “Foolishly, I might add.”

* * *

Damen grinned, but it fell to something more debauched when Laurent took him in hand again. This wasn’t a normal move for him, and Damen felt like an adolescent again, all worked up just from Lauren’ts fine fingers around his cock.

He kissed back when the distance closed between them, and he felt his way up Laurent’s bare thigh, pushing up his chiton to grip his ass. All the while, Laurent was stroking him, and Damen felt heat pooling in him, a lazy, decadent warmth that he wanted to drown in.

“Foolishly,” he chuckled, chasing Laurent’s mouth for a kiss.

He let out a groan against his lips a moment later. “I believe you are forgetting the rules,” he panted out. “I’m to be pleasuring you.”

Selfishly, of course, he only wanted Laurent to continue.

* * *

“And I am preparing you to do that,” Laurent grinned, his voice thick. Perhaps Ios had not worn off of him yet. Or perhaps it was the rush of both a competition and an attempt on his life all in one day.

The very thought made Laurent laugh, and he had to pull away from the kissing for a moment to give himself the time to to do that.

“You /caught/ a /spear/,” Laurent started, still shocked by it all, still in admiration, still positively in awe. “/Again/. /Naked/.”

His hand stopped its mindless fondling for a moment, and with his lip between his teeth, he hitched himself a bit closer to Damen, his hips a bit further up in something very like presentation.

“I missed the opportunity to ever react the last time.” Laurent leant in for another kiss. “And you wouldn’t take any act of gratitude the last time either, so...here I am.”

* * *

Damen would catch a spear every day of his life if it earned him this kind of desire in Laurent’s eyes. He felt like he’d been he one to call Laurent to bed, like he was Soren again, bent on pleasuring him as his pet, or as a whore. A dirty thought unbecoming of a king, but Damen got harder just imagining it.

And then Laurent moved closer, not even restrained by fabric but still clothed in his chiton. Just like Soren, it made Damen wild with lust, though he was trying to restrain himself at least a little bit.

“This is how you would have reacted?” Damen teased, but it was edged with desire. Laden with it.

He adjusted his hips, pressing himself close to Laurent. “Don’t stop,” he murmured, urging him to keep stroking, to keep up the friction between them. Their lips found each other, soft and sensual but Damen pressed for more.

“I would have taken you then,” he panted. “Had you asked. Even in the ring, I would have taken you up to our tent and fucked you there—I don’t care if anyone listened to us.”

Easy to say now, but still.

* * *

“This is what I think I was offering,” Laurent mumbled, unable to say that confidently, as things had been /so/ terribly convoluted back then between them, so wrong and so uncalled for. Laurent could not be sure, but what he could be certain of was that Damen had not asked for this. He never took advantage of Laurent in their time together, even at their worst. He waited until Laurent was ready.

And he was.

He rubbed his hand over the head of Damen’s cock, using Damen’s own precum to slick his length and keep up his strokes. Damen had fully grown in his hand, and the angle was a bit strange for Laurent’s wrist, but Damen has asked him not to stop. Laurent obliged.

Laurent did get a heady little chuckle at Damen’s bold idea of fucking ringside, but he did not call Damen out on his shyness, let it be some little fantasy in their mind.

“A missed opportunity,” Laurent agreed despite knowing what a terrible idea that would have been. They done the right thing by leaving after what happened.

Twice, Laurent hitched his hips as if he might angle up and push Damen inside of him - he wanted to, but he restrained himself, enjoying himself just by watching Damen’s face, kissing him sensually, swallowing his soft panting, his noises. Laurent loved them.

“Make a little more noise for me,” Laurent prompted after a moment, moving his hand up and down Damen’s length a little more swiftly, “Let me hear you, darling.”

* * *

Damen could hardly focus on anything Laurent was saying while he was being stroked. He turned his face into his neck, panting softly, feeling the way his breath warmed Laurent’s soft skin. He was still clothed, but Damn didn’t mind it—a chiton was so much less than what Laurent usually wore that he might as well have been naked.

He could feel whenever Laurent was deciding whether or not to be fucked, and each time he held his breath for just a moment, gauging whether or not this time he would be allowed. Instead they kissed, deeper, messier.

Damen moaned at the mere mention of making noise, his hands spread wide at Laurent’s back, unconsciously trying to guide him down onto his cock. “I want to be inside of you,” he groaned out. “I want to fill you, Laurent. I want to fuck children into you.”

He realized that he’d never fucked Laurent in his bed before. All of his dreams of having Laurent back when they weren’t together had consisted of this, of Laurent in his bed in Ios, limp with pleasure in the sheets after a thorough fucking.

Laurent would remember this, and there was no second chance at a first time.

Damen circled a finger at his entrance and grunted softly as he rutted up into Laurent’s hand.

“You’re in my bed,” he said, his voice low. “I want you on your knees, Your Majesty. Allow me the—fuck!—honor. To do my—service as your champion."

* * *

Pleased as could be, Laurent smiled wide at Damen, absolutely taken by him like this. The words certainly had their effect on Laurent, but not as much effect as how bold Damen was to say them. He was unabashed, unafraid, and unapologetic in his desires. He knew exactly what he wanted, exactly how to say it, and did not care about how it made him sound, look. He did not even blush. Laurent liked him like this, so confident and so very debauched just from Laurent’s hand, and the promise of what /could/ happen.

Laurent pressed a kiss to Damen’s cheek and, in a somewhat swift movement, climbed right off the bed. He just left Damen there, twisted among the sheets, while Laurent crossed the room and began undoing his chiton at the same speed in which it might take him to remove his usual lacings.

“I would hate to dirty this one,” Laurent drew out as he unpinned the fabric, removed it form his body, and neatly /folded/ it to hang it over the back of a chair. Then, it was time for his sandals, which he brought up to himself by way of that same chair. He made an absolutely show of it, all poised and bent over, nude, and knowingly teasing Damen if that arch in his back said anything about it. “All my clothes are absolutely ruined by you. Soon I’ll have nothing to wear.”

The /first/ of his sandals dropped to the ground.

“Keep touching yourself, champion,” Laurent ordered flippantly, his second leg up now, as he untied the laces of his second sandal, though in that moment, his eyes were on Damen, so coy over his shoulder. He knew what he was doing. “I would hate for all my hard work to go to waste."

Laurent was a menace and he knew it. He liked it.

* * *

“You’re a tease!” Damen groaned from the mattress when Laurent stood up and off him like he hadn’t been engaged at all. His dick twinged uncomfortably at the lack of friction, and he found himself on the verge of whining as Laurent moved away, taking longer to pull of his chiton than any other human in history.

“Come back to /bed/,” Damen whined, sitting up after him. He did enjoy the view of Laurent undoing his sandals, especially the way the torch light flickered across his bare back, illuminating his muscle and his ribcage.

He wasn’t going to put up with this, not when he’d been so close to fucking, and when Laurent had clearly been ready for the same.

So Damen darted from bed fast as a shot, before Laurent could recognize what he was doing and put a stop to it. He didn’t allow Laurent to finish untying his sandal lace by lace, and instead scooped him up and took two quick steps before unceremoniously tossing him back onto that bed.

“I’m a champion,” Damen reminded him, spreading Laurent’s legs and settling between them. “And a king. I do not have time for games or teasing.” He met Laurent for an open-mouthed kiss, grinding their hips together.

He pulled away after a moment, holding Laurent’s thighs wide. Then he moved down the bed, hauling Laurent’s legs up and bent toward his chest.

“/Darling./“

He only gave Laurent a second to catch his breath before Damen was at his entrance, tonguing him open. Perhaps he should have asked first, but Laurent had taken his cock in his mouth without asking, so Damen felt justified enough to do something he /knew/ Laurent enjoyed.

* * *

Laurent didn’t even have time to let out a startled sound - which he absolutely would have had his brain recognized that he was /not safe in his own bedchambers/ from his own husband-to-be. Laurent thought he had been in control of this little game, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t /enjoy/ being manhandled about. He did try to swat Damen away, but they'd had the conversation of strength before, and Laurent had no leg to stand on.

Literally.

They were both in the air kicking uselessly now, one still crudely laced in a sandal.

“You are—“ Laurent started to hiss, but the rest of his playful banter came out as an ‘oof’, followed promptly by the groan of a kiss, and then the sound of shock he would have made earlier when Damen threw him over himself, literal heels over head, splayed and in a position he usually would not have allowed without being out of his mind. Though, he supposed he was a bit out of his mind now.

His hands went straight into Damen’s hair - one of them, anyway. The second went over his own mouth, trying to keep a mixture of a gasp, a groan, a laugh, and a yelp just back behind his hand, for he didn’t have the strength to merely keep his mouth shut. HIs toes curled, his head went back, and Laurent did all he could to not take both himself and Damen down onto the bed with his body’s overall reaction to being pinned and pleasured and at the mercy of Damen’s strength.

He’d been /so/ in control.

“Damen—“ Laurent was forced to let out, and he might have tugged a little too hard at Damen’s hair, but he made sure to make an attempt to soothe it over - with some vey erratic tapping to the area in an apology.

Laurent had no way to hold up against this, had never in his /life/ been /teased in bed/. It was playful and different and…fun. It was fun.

When he could focus on that.

“I am /open/,” Laurent hissed then, for even though this was something new and fun and carried less pressure than their usual romps in bed, Laurent did not know how to handle it. He wasnt as seasoned as Damen, and being eaten out, though pleasurable, was not what he understood to be pleasurable for the /both/ of them. Both of his hands found their way into Damen’s hair then and he tugged gently, trying to get him to let up so that Laurent might not have to risk making an embarrassing cry or groan. His shaking thighs were giving him away.

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” Laurent panted, and this time, he knocked Damen /gently/ in the back with his sandaled foot.

* * *

Damen could only grin when Laurent’s hands moved to his hair. He loved it when Laurent did that—it meant he was truly on the edge of losing himself, and that was what Damen wanted. Part of that meant getting him out of control, to push him into a place where he was helpless against his pleasure and writhing in anticipation. Laurent had abandoned him in bed to start undressing, so Damen felt like he could at least attempt to do the same kind of teasing.

He pressed his tongue inside of Laurent, working him open with warm strokes and practiced moves. When he pulled away he presses kisses to the inside of Laurent’s thigh where the skin was soft and touchably smooth.

“Ready?” he purred. “I’ve been ready since you put your mouth on me, yet I have been mercilessly teased.”

He put his mouth on Laurent again, this time licking a stripe up his length. Then he crawled forward to grab the oil at his bedside, pulling the cork to slather his fingers in it, warming it in his palms.

“You are far from ready,” Damen said simply, pushing two fingers into him with a firm push.

He chuckled, a fond look in his eye. “Unlacing your sandals—I’ve seen you unlace those boots in a matter of seconds, but you would have me wait for you to undo your /sandals/?”

* * *

Laurent almost did not move to cover his mouth in time when Damen pushed his tongue inside again, and by the time Damen had done his work, Laurent did not care to. It almost seemed too obscene to be doing this after someone had literally tried to murder him, and Laurent knew that in the back of his mind, yet there he was, letting out soft sound after soft sound while Damen licked him open.

And then Damen went and bent him in actual half reaching for the oil, pushing a non-pleasurable groan out of Laurent that he did not think to cover with his hand. His /knees/ hit the pillow behind him before Damen let up, and Laurent would have swatted at him again if he had not needed to hold his abdomen, not needed to combat such a stretch. His entrance was loose, not his whole fucking body.

The laughter did not make it any easier.

“I did not know there would be a match in our bed,” Laurent grunted, catching his breath, trying to calm down, to gain some control back over this. “Had I known, I would have—“

Damen wouldn’t let him have it.

Laurent swallowed his words, grit his teeth at the initial push, and then went boneless with a moan - a sign of full submission to Damen. That was still new, Laurent giving himself over to Damen so fully, and something he had only begun to do in Ios. Laurent would never admit to it, would not even like to hear it if it were pointed out, but he’d definitely begun to show who he truly was here in Ios, who he could have been. He showed his age, hidden behind the walls of their private chambers, or yards and yards out on the beach.

It would be temporary, lost again when Laurent lost the youthful sensation of a vacation, when he took this land as his own after their union and regained his responsibilities, but for now, Laurent just got to be a young man in love.

Well, a young king in love who could not shed the entirety of who he was, even at a time like this.

“Sandals are hardly good bedfellows,” Laurent said as evenly and as controlled as he could, but he wasn't holding up. Damen had big fingers. “I look—/ridiculous/.” He tried to tap his still-sandaled foot onto Damen’s back, but was penetrated in a way so perfectly at such a time that it left his leg shaking, useless, and left him panting in the pillows.

* * *

There. Damen felt the moment Laurent submitted to him, unable to hide his prideful grin. Only he got to see Laurent like this. Coaxing this from him was getting easier, and despite their fighting and setbacks, they were continuing to learn each other. Damn was continuing to find out when to press and when to hold back, when to be strong and when to be gentle.

“Then don’t take so long to remove them next time,” Damen said as he began fucking Laurent with his fingers. He adjusted himself so that Laurent could hook his legs over his shoulder, then turned his head, closing his teeth at the string wrapped around Laurent’s thigh.

Damen wouldn’t admit it, but he had practice in this. He tugged at the string, loosening it slightly before biting it again. With a simple tug the knot untied and he moved his free hand up to tug the sandal off, letting it topple down his back.

“Better?” he asked, staring down at him through his lashes.

* * *

Laurent might have stopped breathing while he watched that.

“And you’ve been untying my laces with your hands all this time?” Laurent got out, really forced himself to manage through, but it was the last quip he could go through with. Damen had him at his mercy, and Laurent /needed/ mercy.

In just a few moments, he’d gone from laughing and gasping to hiding behind his arm, which he had thrown over his face to hide away while fought the urge to downright whine. Laurent did not think he’d ever be in a place where he could openly whine or beg unless he was at least one orgasm deep, but he could not be so sure when he wanted to so badly now. He’d worked himself up earlier, had not been given a long enough break to come down from it before Damen had manhandled him back to the bed, threw him on his back, stuck his tongue right into—

“That is enough,” Laurent ordered, this time able to follow through with his little kick to Damen’s back. He pushed his arm out, places his palm flat to Damen’s chest as if to stop him, but it was really just to move him along into what they both wanted.

“Your cock,” Laurent demanded in case it wasn’t clear. “Now.”

* * *

Damen laughed at the sight of Laurent so overcome. Perhaps he should have undressed him with his teeth long before this, but he usually wore such cumbersome laces that it probably would have taken all day to accomplish such a feat. Even so, perhaps it would have been worth it of he got to see Laurent so flushed and eager for him.

He was about to start in with his tongue again when he felt the corrective knock of Laurent’s heel on his back, like he was an unruly horse needing discipline.

“As you wish,” he replied. Though it had been left largely neglected, he was still hard from giving Laurent so much pleasure, from coaxing those sounds from him, from listening to the grunt and groans he couldn’t stop from escaping.

He moved up Laurent’s body, his lips hovering just above his until he pushed inside. Laurent was indeed open and properly slick, so Damen had an easier time filling him. The angle helped as well, as did Laurent’s legs being hooked up over his shoulders.

Then he allowed their lips to meet, moaning into Laurent’s mouth as he nestled his hips against him, buried to the hilt. He only lingered there a moment before started into a steady rhythm of thrusts.

“Fuck, Laurent,” he panted out, fisting the sheets. “I love you like this—let me see you. Don’t turn away."

* * *

It was never that Laurent didn’t /want/ to look at Damen, but there had to be an understanding that all of this was overwhelming for him. Even if he wanted to look at Damen, wanted to give him everything - heart, soul, attention - Laurent didn’t think it would be possible for him. He’d been restrained for twenty-one years now, and where he could always do better when he was in control, handing that over and acknowledging it was all a bit too much.

He held Damen’s gaze only after he’d been fully pushed into, only after the pressure had subsided and he /could/ turn his face away from the pillow. He always did that whenever Damen pushed in, turned his face away, because he knew Damen would stop if he thought he’d hurt Laurent, and in these moments, pleasure and pain mingled and Laurent did /not/ want that to stop this.

And when he held Damen’s gaze, he only held it for a few thrusts before he had to turn away again. He could usually get away with hiding somewhere - whether in Damen’s shoulder, his neck, sometimes he could throw his head back, forward - but Damen had him in such a position that he could only turn away into the pillows, which usually ended in his biting them, but that was the reality of this. Laurent could have held Damen’s gaze for longer if he was riding him, if he had control over anything in this, but not his back, facing Damen? It was too much.

It had nothing to do with confidence and everything to do with who Laurent had made himself.

* * *

Laurent was so beautiful when he was being pleasured. Damen wished he could understand why Laurent was so apt to turn away from him, but he supposed he had to learn not to take offense to it. Sex was still something new to him, something that was in direct opposition to his entire being thus far in his life. Laurent had been abused, and sometimes Damen forgot that.

So he cradled Laurent’s face instead, allowing him to hide in his palm until he had to focus on the task at hand.

He continued fucking him with a good pace, watching as Laurent’s cheeks flushed with exertion. He bottomed out and worked to go deeper, already slick with sweat. He was tired from his fight, from the stress of watching Laurent almost die, the high of having him here beneath him, wanting.

“I’m close,” he moaned softly. It wasn’t the usual curling need in his abdomen, but something softer, though still white hot within him.

“I want you to watch,” he panted, looking down at Laurent through his lashes again. He slowed for a moment, gently adjusting his shoulders to allowed Laurent to lower his legs, so it wouldn’t be such a strain on him physically.

And so he could move closer. He met Laurent for a heady kiss, trying to encourage him. To show him that this was welcome, that he could be just as vulnerable.

“I love you,” he murmured between sloppy kisses. He ground his hips again him, searching for the spot deep within Laurent that always brought him to release. “Come for me, darling."

* * *

Laurent could not have been happier for Damen’s hand there, and he turned right into it, grateful for the intimacy as well as the veil that he still very much needed when he was so very laid bare and exposed to Damen. But he nipped at the skin of Damen’s hand, panted with abandon into it, unafraid to show he was very much enjoying himself. He was all flushed, quieter than he had been the past few days, but still obviously enjoying himself - maybe even more - in this more slow, close, loving moment. He had always preferred this, and truly, he needed more practice in it so he /could/ just look at Damen. It was such a shame to miss /his/ face in all of this.

And then Damen was kissing him, head on, and Laurent did not need to hide in any way. His returned kisses were hungry, just as needy and sloppy as Damen’s, with growing abandon as he neared his own climax.

Something made him move then, made him take his arms and bracket Damen’s head, holding his curls so it was just them, nothing else, and Laurent had, at least, control over that. He blocked all he could out with his arms, held Damen close with his arms and legs, and let himself be a few inches away, not turned away, not hiding, but not completely exposed to the world either.

And he tried to watch. Laurent watched Damen head on, brow creased, sheened in sweat, blue eyes focused on him, on his face, on the pleasure that crossed it, the obscenely handsome desperation—

And it was all too much.

Staring at Damen like that, that vulnerability while Damen thrust into him, took pleasure in and with him, the way the he acknowledged Laurent head on with a met gaze and absolutely no fear or qualm, with an absolute certainty.

Laurent came, and there was no keeping his eyes open for that. He spilled between them with a quiet groan, and then Damen was only exposed to his neck as Laurent’s head rolled back onto the pillow, body arched as the tension released from his abdomen and warmth spread through his body, to his limbs, to his mind, and left him to indulge in his pleasure.

* * *

Damen did love making love to Laurent like this. He loved settling in this close, able to feel his body against him, the way his breath ghosted over his neck and chest, and of course the debauched look in Laurent’s eyes. When they locked gazes it made him feel like they had something more than love, that they really were uniting this way—something he only felt sometimes when they were having sex, though each time was meaningful.

Damen let out a little gasp of surprise when Laurent came before him, and Damen spilled almost immediately after, as though Laurent had given him permission. He settled between his legs, shallow ruts milking him of his release.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, kissing up the column of Laurent’s throat/ he took filthy pleasure in the sensation of warm stickiness between them—Laurent’s release was a badge of honor. Damen was fairly certain he was the only one to ever experience it in the true sense.

He laid kisses up and down Laurent’s neck, the corner of his jaw, nibbled at his ear.

“How did it feel?” he asked, his eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. He knew they had to stay awake to hear that everything was safe but…well, that might become difficult.

* * *

Damen spilled just seconds after Laurent, only adding to the moments of euphoria Laurent had before he had to come down from all they’d just done. And those moments were euphoric. He was lost to them, lost to his pleasure, to /Damen’s/ pleasure, lost in their closeness and intimacy, and the walls they got to momentarily build around themselves.

He let Damen shower him with kisses, let it pull a smile onto his lips, soft laughter out of him with every featherlight and not-so featherlight meeting of lips to skin. His hands moved up and down Damen’s arms, his legs held him close while they still had the strength.

After some time, Laurent let his legs fall to the bed, his limbs loose, warm, shaking slightly in little increments. His thighs would burn in mere hours, the insides of them would twitch for all the hours leading up to it. He ran his hand over his face, up through his hair, eyes watching the ceiling for a moment.

“It feels like I need a bath,” Laurent chuckled, hand rising to pointedly rub his shoulder - specifically the one he’d had most of his weight on during the majority of their little lovemaking session. He took it away after that, grabbed Damen by the hair and pulled him down for a kiss - a little forceful, but it was payback for his manhandling prior. “It felt perfect up to that point.” He smiled fondly before adding, “My champion."


	16. Chapter 16

Damen actually dozed a little, half awake and half asleep as he mouthed over Laurent’s fair skin that was now flushed pink. He pulled out when he softened but didn’t move away. He liked feeling Laurent wrapped around him, like they might never part this time.

He eyed the spot Laurent rubbed at and made a note to give him a thorough massage before they went to bed. He didn’t have much time to think that before Laurent had him locked in another kiss, one that Damen made a soft noise into, warmed. He was happy. His frustration and hurt were both gone, his contentment complete.

“Your champion,” he repeated softly against Laurent’s lips. He kissed him again before giving him a fond nuzzle. “Would you like hot stones after your bath, in the steam room?” he asked.

After a moment he realized that he’d never seen such a thing in Arles, so it was possible Laurent didn’t know about that.

“It’s a relaxation method for sore muscles. Hot stones are placed on your body in special places. It will ease your soreness. And they are applied in our sauna—a room filled with steam. It helps you to sweat out impurities and pain.”

He pressed another fond kiss to Laurent’s cheek, smirking. “I would do it with you, as the attendants are women. Couldn’t have anyone thinking you were trying to make any bastards."

* * *

Deep down, Laurent knew Damen would never offer him a practice of torture, but what else could he assume ‘hot stones’ were? It sounded like stones kept at the bottom of a great fire, alongside the wood, meant to burn and blister.

It hardly sounded like a means to relax, so the explanation was greatly appreciated.

“I think I would like that,” Laurent agreed, knocking Damen with his still-open legs, bracketing Damen’s hips. “It sounds…warm. But I might like some warmth.” It would help with soreness in the long run, and it also just sounded nice. /New/. Ios still had so much to offer him, thing he did not know about, things that weren’t put into books made for war.

Laurent pursed his lips and turned his head upwards away from Damen after his little joke, refusing to be party in giving him the satisfaction of a laugh on that.

“Do you think you can stay awake long enough to take me there?” Laurent teased, dropping his chin again to look at Damen. “Is it the day that has exhausted you, or can I take all the credit?"

* * *

“It is not yet summer,” Damen reminded him. “The nights are chilly by the sea.” He laid a few more kisses down Laurent’s neck, listening to the sounds of the city outside his apartments, where the night was still loud, though it sounded more celebratory than angry. He didn’t enjoy hiding away from his people after such a scary experience, but Nikandros was Kyros of Ios for just such matters.

He had the luxury of focusing on Laurent, making sure he was safe, healthy, protected.

“You may take all the credit,” Damen assured him with a kiss.

He unwound himself from Laurent a few minutes later and cleaned him off as best he could before leading him to his provate baths. Unlike Arles, they didn’t have to travel through any public halls or step by guards. Instead he led Laurent though a door that lead to a private hall that opened to a small bath.

“Is this the one you used while you were here last?” Damen asked. He stooped to move the seal, and the aqueducts began pumping warm water to fill the tub. He didn’t mind filling his own tub— a compromise for privacy.

“I’m going to have one of my guard fetch attendants for us,” he said. “Once we’re bathed, we’ll meet them by the pond you saw yesterday.” He cocked his head. “Unless you would feel safer here?"

* * *

Laurent took great pleasure in closing his aching legs once Damen moved away from the bed, even if he mourned his loss equally. He could feel the movement soothing the muscles to a point where he almost did not want to stand at all. He would have been perfectly happy lying in bed the rest of the evening, as he was, listening to the sound of music and distant conversations through the gauze curtains.

But a bath would do him some good, so he did force himself up with Damen, followed him through to the bath he knew.

“When Jord finally convinced me to bathe,” Laurent confirmed, remembering well being stuck by Damen’s side, fussing over him, unwilling to leave until he knew Damen was well. It had taken two days before Laurent left his side for longer than needed, and after he bathed, he had another day with Damen before he had to be gone, had to return to Arles, face the consequences of the actions of many. And then he’d had his fine getaway in Sicyon and then across Vere and parts of Akielos with Damen at his side and, well, after his ascension, there had not been much fund after that, he realised.

Laurent blinked all of that away and, when he reoriented himself, found himself in those familiar baths again.

He’d had no idea how to use them, but had figured all of the systems out on his own in no time.

He decided not to brag.

“I still feel safe anywhere here,” Laurent told Damen, crossing the room to ready two towels for them. “A Veretian tried to murder me today. I cannot hold that against Ios.” And he would not.

When the bath was full, Laurent followed Damen into it and crowded right up against him without delay, without qualm. His arms wrapped under Damen’s, met at his shoulder blades, and Laurent just held him close. He may have been holding himself up.

* * *

“A Veretian under my charge,” Damen corrected softly. He still couldn’t believe Korus would ever do such a thing. Dame had /liked/ him, had seen his growth over the past few months before heading to Arles. He had been shaping up to be a decent fighter, someone who could at least defend himself from the bullies who made fun of his accent.

He gave Laurent’s a chaste kiss to the cheek before he headed out toward the doors. He didn’t mind being nude in his own apartments, and thought nothing of it as he stepped out into the hall to ask for the attendants.

When he returned he closed off the seal to the bath and waded into it. Laurent was right behind him, and he only had time to turn before Laurent was against his chest, holding him close.

“You’re not worried, are you?” he asked, his voice warm and soothing. He looped his arms around Laurent’s waist, kissing his hair. “Let me wash you. You’ve had a very long day.”

 _Talking to Fynn,_ his mind was quick to remind him. But Damen ignored the thought.

* * *

“I’m not worried,” Laurent confirmed, comfortably rested against Damen in the tub. “It is nothing new or shocking, and it was handled well.” Laurent scooped up some water, let it cascade down Damen’s back and, a moment later, did it again. He just liked touching Damen. A lot. He knew Damen had offered to wash him, but Laurent had merely taken the initiative first.

“Thank you. For not killing him,” Laurent went on quietly, his cheek rested on Damen’s shoulder. “I know it pained you not to.“

Damen had always protected him - even when Laurent did not deserve it. Laurent did not ever want to take that for granted, never wanted to seem unappreciative of that. It was something only Auguste had ever done before.

Auguste and Fynn.

“You are a good man, my champion,” Laurent grinned and, with a little kiss to Damen’s shoulder, he gave himself over to being washed.

* * *

The only positive Damen found in not killing Korus where he stood was seeing the protective and caring instinct in Laurent now. How could Damen push for the death of someone that was probably the closest thing to a son Laurent would ever have?

“Perhaps you can better understand how I feel about Cosmas now,” Damen murmured, allowing Laurent to pour the water down his back. “Korus will be punished though, yes? I cannot allow anyone to threaten your life and get away with it.”

He took his time washing Laurent. He massaged his scalp after his hair was wetted, pressing kisses along his shoulders as he applied soap and fragrances to Laurent’s fine hair. Once he’d lathered and rinsed, he moved on to Laurent’s body, massaging as he soaped him up and cleaned him of arena dust and sweat.

Once he felt Laurent was sufficiently washed, he sat back, feeling clean himself just by proximity. He ran the sponge over himself a few times, cleaning off dust and grim, but did not allow Laurent to take over. they had spent enough time in the baths.

“Come,” he said, offering his hand. “The faster the stones are applied, the better you will feel."

* * *

Laurent didn’t know that he enjoyed it.

The stones were nice - a warm weight on many sore areas on his body. The two placed on his lower back nearly made him moan aloud, the relief quite appreciated, but all he really gave off was a little twitch of his hand, a /very/ soft sigh.

It all felt wonderful, but it was, admittedly, strange for him.

Vere has never offered up such a practice of relaxation, and though oiled massages were offered, Laurent had never /participated/ in them. Strange hands on his body were not something he often submitted to.

If Damen had done it, he would have liked it much more.

He nearly felt bad for the woman tasked to him, having probably done this for years and so suddenly unable to relax her king’s partner of all people. Her hands were soft - /too/ soft - and Laurent just could not give himself over to it completely.

The stones were nice.

He lifted his head at one point, surreptitiously watched the woman massaging Damen. She worked his muscles with the oil, cast a playful and braggart glance over at her poor friend as she dug into his thigh, worked out a knot Laurent knew he had created. He turned his face back to the bed, focused on the warmth of the stones in his back.

“It is an interesting practice,” Laurent commented when he was finally free of the woman’s hands, just laid beneath the stones, able to relax a bit more than he had. “I cannot say I am accustomed to full massages. It is...quite a lot of touching, isn’t it?”

* * *

Laurent didn’t like it. Damen had thought the warm stones would counteract the massage he knew Laurent probably wouldn’t enjoy very much coming from a stranger, but he had hoped to soften that blow with a female attendant. But perhaps he shouldn’t have suggested it at all. The only glimmer of hope he had was when Laurent’s fingers twitched in his hand, indicating he’d enjoyed at least one part.

“Leave us,” Damen said, his eyes still closed. The attendants bowed and hurried off, and he suspected that Laurent’s attendant feared she might be punished.

“It is nothing sexual,” Damen said. “And they are very helpful for sore muscles. Frequent massages allow for much harder training over longer periods, I have found.” But that also meant Laurent would have to relax during.

“Would you like me to massage you?” he asked, finally opening his eyes to look over at him. “The point was to relax you, not me. And you do not look as relaxed as you should be."

* * *

Laurent practically deflated at Damen’s order to be left, only holding onto some residual tension that came with having been bedded then taken on a tour about the palace. He breathed easier without their attendants, did not worry /so/ much about being in such a prone position for an elongated period of time.

“You stay right there,” Laurent ordered of Damen, only letting go of his hand to point at him authoritatively. “I am relaxing as we speak. It is not so instantaneous for me.” Damen, of all people, probably knew that best. Damen was one of the only people who could relax Laurent, but he did not need it. Without eyes and presence, he could relax under the stones, truly focus on the ones at his lower back and start to enjoy himself.

“I do not know that I will ever succumb to a stranger’s massage,” Laurent did note then, quieter and calmer, reaching over again to link his pinky with Damen’s, “but I do quite like this stone business.”

And he quite liked that Damen had covered him, but that was not necessary to comment.

“You do this often?” Laurent asked then. If he did not speak with Damen, he had no doubts that Damen would sleep, leaving Laurent here for much longer than perhaps intended.

* * *

“I could help,” Damen argued, but didn’t move. He was comfortable too, soaking in the warmth of the stones, his muscles loose from the massage. Once day, perhaps, Laurent would become used to them and be able to relax a bit more. It might take years, but Damen was prepared to wait.

His eyes fell closed, but he let out a hum at Laurent’s question. “I used to,” he said. “back during my days of hard training, I would have a massage every night. Not always with stones, and not always with women.” He smirked, allowing Laurent to take that as he would.

“It is a good skill to have,” he added. “I learned while we were apart, so that I could help you. I knew you wouldn’t enjoy a regular massage, but I couldn’t stand to feel your muscles so tight after a long day.” Laurent already harbored too many burdens, Damen wouldn’t allow this to be one more.

“Do you think you would be able to get used to doing it like this?” he asked. “With me here?"

* * *

Laurent snorted into the furs of his bed when Damen confirmed his suspicions of these men - and women - in these massages. Laurent had heard rumors of Prince Damianos’ prowess, but since arriving, he had practically seen all evidence of it save for actual children running around. The way people looked after him, watched him, fawned and pined for him….

Laurent linked their hands a little more securely, thumbed at Damen’s knuckles to make it just seem soothing.

“Why would I ever get used to it when I now know I could just have you massage me?” Laurent countered, turning his face to the side to look at Damen, all languid and content against the furs - a true puddle of a man. He had no worries. Despite literally having been stabbed by his brother of all people, Damen gave his attendants complete trust. He just laid there, bare and submissive, relaxed like this was not the perfect time for an easy assassination.

They’d been raised very differently.

* * *

“Because I need massages too, and unless you plan to learn I will be beside you like this,” Damen returned, smiling. He understood why Laurent was always so tense, but Damen didn’t carry his suspicion about being attacked or assassinated. Perhaps he should, but he’d not even expected an attack from his own brother, let alone a stranger.

He took a few moments to just relax in his massage bed, breathing quietly as the stones warmed his aching muscles. He was turning totally pliant, melting away under the heat.

“I think this would be a good way to bond at the end of a long day,” Damen offered, stroking Laurent’s thumb with his own.

He had imagined this for so long, this comfort, this relaxation.

“I adore you,” he murmured with a sleepy smile. “I’d win for you every night if you asked.”

* * *

“Something tells me I never have to ask,” Laurent murmured, still watching Damen. He was so relaxed, so without worry, without care. He had taken all their troubles and left them at the mouth of the baths. Laurent wish he could be that way.

But at the end of the day, he knew this euphoria would fade. They wouldn’t have this time to relax. There would be no time for hot stones. Not for some time anyway. They still had so much left to deal with, left to face.

Laurent would let him have it all for now. Damen deserved that.

“My champion,” Laurent said aloud, fondly, giving Damen’s hand a proper squeeze before letting him have it back. Laurent crossed his arms under his head and lay there for a bit longer, also giving Damen the space and relaxation he deserved.

Until Laurent did not want to any longer.

His own stones and muscles be damned, Laurent rolled carefully onto his side to let the stones slide off his body and, like a cat, he managed to wiggle his way right up into the pocket at Damen’s side in the small bed, right up alongside him. He’d given him quite enough space.

And Laurent had never been a fan of just sitting around. His mind was much too involved for that.

* * *

Damen thought Laurent would leave him when he stood, and he wasn’t ready to go yet, so he pointedly nuzzled into the furs. He didn’t understand how Laurent could leave the warmth and relaxation after a day spent handling kingly duties and attending games. Then again, Laurent hadn’t participated in those games.

“Mm?” he hummed as Laurent moved to his side. He thought that Laurent was simply trying to get his attention. Instead, Laurent wormed his way into the tiny spot beside him, prompting Damen to chuckle. “Come to join me, hm?”

He let the stones fall off his back as he turned up onto his side, curling around Laurent. “Your back is warm,” he hummed, snuggling into Laurent’s neck. Sometimes it was nice just to cuddle like this, even if they were doing it on an impossibly small bed.

“Feeling to exposed?” he asked after a moment, his eyes drifting closed. “Am I your warm fur?"

* * *

“Only wanted to be close to you,” Laurent told Damen, moving in closer when he could, knotting their limbs together to keep him from slipping off the bed. One roll backwards, and that would be it for him, he very well knew it. “I suppose I could have lost my chance at it today, so I am taking advantage of that which I still have.”

He brought Damen’s hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it, let his eyes slipped close because, yes, he did feel a lot safer and less exposed here. He had not even necessarily felt terrible about his exposure until it had been pointed out, but even then, it was an excellent excuse for him to be here.

“Do not flatter yourself,” Laurent did chuckle then, closing his eyes and just taking a moment for the two of them. “You are my king and my champion. You are /hardly/ a warm fur.”

Damen was an absolute furnace.

An absolute furnace Laurent knew he was about to lose to sleep. He would not have minded it so much if they were in bed, but they were merely on a small lounge. Sleeping here would end up with them in a pile on the stone floor if they weren’t careful, and Laurent was not interested in being crushed after such a relaxing bath and stone treatment. Had it not been for the massage, he would have been no more than dough at this point in the day.

“You should go to bed,” Laurent whispered to Damen, turning /carefully/ to look over his shoulder at his beloved. “This is no place to sleep.”

* * *

“You wanted to be closer to me,” Damen hummed, smiling against Laurent’s neck. He melted to nothing around his king, his sweet Veretian tyrant who loved him so. Some days it was just harder to remember that than others. Some days he let the hurt overtake him still. Days like today.

He was so wonderfully warm. Sleep sounded wonderful, but he knew that they still had things to decide before they could just go to bed, no matter how comfortable they were.

“We have to make sure things have settled first,” he said with a kiss to the nape of Lauren’s neck. He new when he was being warned, so Damen sat up, yawning and stretching in the low light. Laurent was a gorgeous sight before him, not at all covered by sheets and still glistening with oil.

His smiled widened. “You could have had anyone in Vere,” he murmured. “Anyone in Kempt, or Patras.” He ran a finger down Laurent's chest, down to his navel. “Even Akielos, had you visited.”

But he left the thought there and stood up, offering his hand to Laurent. “Let’s dress. They’ll need some kind of instruction if you want that brat to survive the night."

* * *

Somehow, Laurent was not the one that had to drag Damen out despite his every intention to do just that. Instead, Damen rose before him, and Laurent had all the space to roll onto his back. Uncovered and unburdened by company, Laurent had no issue with lying there under Damen’s gaze, under his roaming finger. Laurent only wished they could have held the moment for just a little longer, could have spoken of all the possibilities before they had to speak of Korus again.

Laurent rolled his eyes and pushed up on his arms before he stood, already working himself back into the mindset of a king with /so/ many responsibilities.

“I do not even know what to do with him,” Laurent confessed, folding his toes against the stoke floor to crack them, loosening whatever tightness he had left in his body. He rolled his neck, his shoulder, as if he might be a moment away from a physical fight. All of that relaxation for this. What a waste.

“His actions were justifiable,” Laurent started, not a moment later falling into the space that Damen’s arms afforded, crowding up against Damen’s chest. “Reckless, as well, I’ll admit, but he is young and I took.../everything/ from him. He does not know better. How does one punish /that/?”

At this point, Laurent was more inconvenienced than anything else.

* * *

“You seemed to have a good idea in the baths,” Damen offered, stooping to pick up the stones. He could only be so haphazard as a king. He set the stones on the bed and moved to leave, only to find Laurent in his arms again. He cocked his head slightly, folding his arms around him. Laurent was being oddly affectionate, needier than he was used to. But Damen didn’t mind it at all—in fact, he had a rush of pride about being the only one that Laurent was so affectionate with.

“How will he know better if we don’t teach him?” Damen asked, rubbing Laurent’s back. “You cannot try to kill a king for any reason, no matter what he has done to you. Not unless you plan to take his throne or end your life.” They both had experience in that, unfortunately.

“I will not hear that he was justified,” Damen said with a shake of his head. “He was not justified in taking up a weapon against you. If I have to enforce that punishment, I will.” He would make a public spectacle of it.

“Not only did he try to kill you, but he spat in the face of the goodwill I have shown him these past months,” Damen continued, resting his chin on Laurent’s head. “He has been coddled too much. I would send him to the working camps for three days, and give him a few lashes.”

Damen kissed the crown of Laurent’s head, holding him close for another minute, savoring the way he wanted him now.

“Worse, he could have incited a riot or made way for an assassin just waiting for the perfect moment."

* * *

Damen made many wonderful, balanced, and nearly unbiased points. Pet or not, what Korus had done could have led to something much worse. Perhaps if he had chosen in a private setting even, Laurent could have justified a lesser punishment, but Korus’ action in such a public place as the arena? He was Veretian. He should have known better than that. That alone sealed his punishment, no matter his history with Laurent, no matter that Laurent could justify for him. Aside from that, he had insulted Damen, and for that, he would also need to be punished.

“I will punish him,” Laurent murmured, turning his face right into Damen’s chest with a sigh. “He has grown to trust you, to respect you.” Laurent could honestly say that was probably the only reason Korus had not decided to end his own life - because he had found some reason to live. A pets life - especially one with Korus’ history of owners - was to serve, to please. He’d found someone, and it had to have been someone in his Akielon circle. If nothing else, Laurent knew it was not him, so he was the safest option for punishment. “I’ll not dissuade him from that any more than we already have.”

He took a step back from Damen, eyes wandering about for a second before they landed on— a towel. Laurent crossed the room to grab it, grabbed another for Damen. They would need to return to the bed chambers to change, after all, and Laurent was not feeling up to nudity at the moment. Not when guilt was on the table.

“I cannot administer lashes here so soon,” Laurent muttered, thinking of how that could play against him after his well-known history with Damen. This was a tumultuous time and he needed to navigate it carefully. “There will be a physical punishment that will last with him, but I will need time to think of something fitting that does not make me sick.”

Laurent still felt widely responsible for Korus, and despite the attempt, he did not want any more harm to come to this boy. Laurent had a soft spot for boys in his position, had known it well—

And could easily come up with a punishment for it on that alone.

Laurent was tense again.

“Work camp,” he agreed quite quickly after that, clearing his throat. “We will send him to the work camps after. For no longer than three days. And he is to be isolated there.”

It was clearly not up for debate.

* * *

“I can do the lashing,” Damen offered. He thought it would be fitting, and Korus had wronged him too in his attempt to kill Laurent. He had embarrassed him, and the Veretian council was probably discussing the validity of safety in Akielos as they stood here wrapping towels around themselves.

“It can’t wait, Laurent,” he added. “The punishment must be swift. Showing him any favoritism will only lead to others taking a punishment into their own hands.”

He’d lashed men before. Unruly soldiers who put others in danger, even a noble boy who had stolen from his father. Kastor has handed him the whip and instructed him how to achieve different hits for different types of punishment. Damen never enjoyed it, but understood it was necessary to keep the peace among the men.

“After that he’ll be sent to the camp,” Damen agreed, taking Laurent’s hand. They strode back through the open hall and into the bedchamber, where the sheets were still rumpled and the room smelled faintly of sex despite the night air flowing through the curtains.

He leaned over to press a fond kiss to Laurent’s temple.

“He tried to take your life,” Damen murmured. “I will not allow him to go free unscathed by me.”

* * *

Laurent did not seem persuaded one way or the other. He stayed quiet as they walked, thinking over what just could be done with Korus, but the more Damen addressed it, the less time he had to think, and time was doing nothing if not dwindling. Damen was right in saying they needed to make a decision and that they needed to make it now, but Laurent was working his way around compassion. It was difficult to navigate about.

Korus had been so reckless, so absolutely imbecilic. To do this in public! At such a large event! He /knew better/! That was not the Veretian way! And Korus had been under the sneakiest most conniving, evil man in all of Vere! He knew better.

“An /idiot/,” Laurent murmured under his breath as he went through his Akielon belongings, picked out a new chiton that he, ultimately, walked over to Damen with, for assistance.

And he ended up with his face in Damen’s chest not a moment later, still holding the fabric, knocking his head once against Damen’s sternum.

What was he to do?

It was not a decision easily made in cold blood, and not one Laurent could make alone. Were they in Vere, Korus would be imprisoned. His punishment may have been to have his hair shorn, his face scarred - something that would ultimately keep him from returning to his ways as a pet, that would take away his comfort and force him to use his life for something else.

Akielos would laugh at such a decision, would not take it seriously, and - as Damen said - would take such a light sentencing as an opportunity to try their own hand at doing away with the Veretian king.

This was the first attempt ever made on his life where Laurent had someone he trusted he could turn to, someone he could hide in and silently process what had happened. He did not even get to reap that benefit.

* * *

“He is young,” Damen said softly, taking Laurent into his arms again, this time half clothed. He let his own towel drop—he was only wearing it for Laurent anyway. Nakedness in Akielos didn’t bother him at all. It was good to see Laurent feeling, good to see him battling with this. It gave him hope for when they had a child of their own to care for.

“Perhaps he knew he was being foolish,” Damen offered, carding his fingers through Laurent’s hair. “He was awfully brazen. Perhaps he was simply trying to make a statement.”

Even as he said it he knew that wasn’t right. Korus has thrown a spear at his king.

Damen kisses Laurent’s head and helped him tie his chiton, smiling down at him. He wore it so well.

“Let me do it. Out of respect for you and for Vere, I should be the one to lash him,” Damen said. “He did this under my charge, and must understand my kindness must be respected as well.”

* * *

Korus /had/ been trying to make a statement - the same statement Damen would know use the boy to make. Laurent had, unfortunately for Korus, succeeded in killing his king, and Korus had been trying to make him pay for that action. Korus had tried and failed, and where he would avoid the punishment he intended for Laurent, he would not go without punishment entirely.

“You should do it,” Laurent did finally agree after a long moment, patting at Damen’s chest with his palms in little slaps before he righted himself, moving across the room to his sandals. He usually took a quiet pride in readying for such an event, but this one did not sit right with him at all. He took a lot of the blame for this one, could completely justify the actions, and could see as many reasons not to punish this as he could see to do so.

“I need to learn to…./listen/ and /share/ in decision making,” Laurent acknowledged, tying up his one sandal. "We will call this—“ He stopped and lifted his head, glanced around the room as if searching for something and— he found it. “—/trying/.”

It had been his sandal that had been removed on the other side of the room he had been looking for.

Laurent made his way over to it, pulled it up over his foot and began the lacing on his own, face pensive, lost in his thoughts.

* * *

Damen could see how difficult this was for Laurent to process. HIs eyes were full of concern, and his shoulders were already tight again after his massage. He pressed a few fond kisses to Laurent’s brow, then let him walk away to collect his sandals.

He strode across the room to gather a chiton from his trunk, dressing quickly. It took him no time at all to lace up his sandals and return to Laurent. “I could use my teeth for that,” he joked, reaching forward to push Laurent’s hair behind his ear.

“I will handle this,” Damen assured him, hooking his arm around Laurent’s calf so that he couldn’t escape. “Look at me.” He waited for Laurent to turn his thoughtful gaze.

“Korus has already done the worst thing he can do,” Damen reminded him, keeping his gaze steady. “It will not be easy, but I will try to make it easier.”

He stepped back, offering both hands for Laurent to take.

“He is expecting far worse, I am sure.” Especially if he thought Laurent was part of the punishment design. While Damen never enjoyed doing things like this, he accepted it as his duty. He never pawned off punishments to underlings. He would carry this out—in fact, he needed to. He would not be able to sleep if someone tried to harm Laurent and was not punished for it.

* * *

It had been easier to punish Damen, Laurent realised as he was addressed by the very man he’d nearly had beaten to death just over a year ago. Of course, Laurent had had all of his reasonings for it, but Korus had tried to /kill/ him. Certainly he could step up to the occasion, but it still took him far too long to give in, to meet Damen’s gaze.

“Three lashes,” Laurent did finally say aloud, deciding once and for all what needed to be done here, decided what say he could have in it. They could compromise here. “No more than three. And no tips on the whip. And then his hair should be shorn in the Akielon style.” Korus had been afforded his boyish curls for too long. It was something Laurent knew would hurt, but also something that would ultimately help him - especially off in some work camp. It may sound foolish to Damen, but to a Veretian pet, it would be a message that stuck.

Laurent squeezed Damen’s hands then stepped back, still holding onto Damen with one hand while he made his way to the mirror. He would very much like to emerge from a near death experience looking as strong and cold as ever. He managed it even in the chiton, even after Damen had just wrestled him into the bed, even with his damn hair still curling at the ends.

Though, next to the warmth that was Damianos, it was easy to look frigid.

“Well then,” Laurent prompted, turning back to Damen. “Let us—“ He gestured at the door with his free hand, with a curt nod.

* * *

Things were not as quiet as Damen had thought. They were escorted by guards on all sides (Veretian and Akielon) as well as Nikandros, who looked sour. Jord stayed closest to Laurent, Pallas closest to Damen. When they emerged into the open air of the court, it was filled with people clamoring for seats, arguing and talking loudly. Things seemed like they could spiral out of control very quickly, and Damen kept a tight hold on Laurent’s hand, scanning the crowd for any weapons.

“He’s a right pain in the ass," Nikandros snarled, referring to Korus. “I think he wants to be killed. I hope you’ll do it swiftly so he shuts up.”

But he said it in a way that suggested he knew Damen wouldn’t kill him at all.

They took their seats on their respective thrones, momentarily silencing the crowd. That is, until Korus was brought forth, his hands bound behind his back, his thin ankles shackled. He looked smug, but his eyes were ringed with red.

The people were ready to eat him alive, and Damen could feel their energy crackling like unspent lightning from stormclouds.

“Nikandros,” Damen murmured, motioning for him to come closer. He thumbed the side of Laurent’s palm all the while. “Bring a whip. Nothing added to it. And a pair of shears.”

The last part had Nikandros furrowing his brow, but he nodded, glancing to Laurent for a moment before heading off. It was his silent way of showing concern, the best he could do from a distance.

* * *

Laurent could not say this walk was unfamiliar to him, however the last time Laurent had been on this walk, the angry shouts of the crowd had been very much towards him. Treason and all that. He was glad to see the people of Akielos and Vere had upheld those values. But they diverged away from the court of Ios and up to their thrones, which Laurent supposed he did prefer the view to. He could still feel the ache in his joint from that day.

He squeezed Damen’s hand in return, signaling that he was perfectly fine. He didn’t like this, but it would hardly be what broke him. He would reflect on this, yes, but he had justified Damen’s decision now, so he could not be too perturbed.

On the surface, anyway.

He gave Damen a nod of appreciation for respecting his wishes, and a returned look to Nikandros which was the most he could do to convey his gratitude for going along. He knew Nikandros wanted Korus dead, knew Damen did too, but they were respecting his decisions as King of Vere - and that might have surprised him for them to have done so without a fight.

And even then, Laurent was not so sure it would stick.

He was impressed with Korus’ stature, the way he held himself in true Veretian fashion, upright and proud despite it all. How terribly noble of him. The confidence of a pet was unmatched, and he’d held onto that somehow despite everything. Laurent tilted his head, and when they locked on, Korus spat at him. Much like with his spear, he was too far away, but he had made an attempt.

He was steadfast in his fight, it seemed, even when Jord came up and grabbed him roughly around the throat, forced Korus upright and to his spot. Laurent cast his eyes over to Damen, sympathetic for only a flash and then back to cold, stoic, and settled on Korus.

* * *

Damen didn’t need to hide any of his true emotion. Seeing Korus made him angry, both because he had been betrayed and because this boy had the audacity to try to kill Laurent in front of him. He decided the moment that spit left Korus’s mouth that he would not hold back when he had the whip in his hands. This boy deserved punishment, and deserved to learn what it meant to go after a king.

Damen stood abruptly the moment Nikandros returned with a wooden box that held a whip Damen had used before. It was his father’s, black with rubies and gold at the hilt. Simplistic at first glance, but beautifully embroidered at the base.

The crowd watched hungrily.

He set his gaze hard on Korus, who was still glaring at Laurent.

“You have threatened the life of the person most important to me,” Damianos began. “I wished to kill you. I still do, to some extent, but I understand that your willingness to become a criminal is partly my fault, as I have taken you as a student of Akielos. This is also a failure on my front.”

He wanted the Akielons to know this was not just a Veretian problem.

“You will face the whip. Three lashes.”

Korus flinched, but didn’t shrivel.

“Then you hair will be shorn in the Akielon style as a reminder that you are no longer a Veretian pet but a man of Akielos.”

“No!” Korus screamed, but it was cut off with a choked noise as Jord’s grip tightened.

Akielons murmured amongst themselves, likely wondering why a haircut would cause such a reaction when a whip didn’t.

“Then you will be send to the working camp in the shipyards for three days, and you will be isolated throughout.” He hardened his gaze. “I understand that many of you have hesitations about joining our two kingdoms. Korus, I will allow you to live so that you may see the union of Akielos and Vere, and hopefully you will come to understand just how much damage you could have done had you actually listened in your combat lessons.”

He looked to Laurent. “Laurent, do you approve of this punishment?”

They weren’t married yet—some protocols were still in place.

* * *

Laurent watched Korus for most of Damen’s declaration, watched his face twist and gawk, watched him level his eyes on Laurent and glare, but Laurent could not help but scan the crowd at various points in Damen’s speech, allowing himself to look away from Korus and take in the various responses to, well, himself.

Damen referred to him as the ‘person most important to him,’ and the reactions were varied. Laurent was, of course, stuck to look at those closest, but they served as a microcosm to the whole of it. Some smiles, some little swoons, some eye rolls, and some disgust. There was some soft muttering, but over the breeze of the open air arena, he could not hear it clearly.

He saw confusion at the chosen form of punishment, and understood that completely. Akielons would have their set punishments, past down and expected by its people. Damen would not stray from those, would respect them as what was known. Laurent, and most Veretians, had a way of very specific punishments, found a way of making a punishment sting and last. Taking the Regent’s name and line away from him, leaving him unknown and abandoned without power had been one. Castrating a man who sought pleasure in boys too young was another. And now, Korus’ hair. It would make him look older, would take away his boyishness he valued. And it would be for the best.

For his approval, Laurent nodded graciously, confirmed it with a, “Vere sees this as fitting punishment, yes. Proceed.”

To the crowd, it was a cold and deliberate decision. Not one of them had seen what it had been like for them in the bedchambers, truly discussing this, debating this. They saw the clean cut version of it all. Laurent would be sure they continued to see that even after the union.

“You do not—“ Korus began to speak, blubbering as he processed his punishment, but Jord shoved him hard, relinquishing him to Pallas, to Akielos.

* * *

Pallas took hold of Korus and servants brought forth a wooden stock, rolled in on wheels. It was finely made, used for royal punishments. There weren’t many in Akielos, so it had a fine film of dust that had been hastily removed with a cloth before being moved. Damen remembered what it had been like to be strewn across a block in Vere, how each lash had sliced him open. He remembered the anger, the will to not call out or show pain.

He doubted Korus would be so strong.

“Silence him,” Damen cut as he approached. Pallas obliged, gagging him with a strip of cloth. Damen didn’t want Laurent to feel any more guilty about this than he already did.

It wasn’t Akielon custom to wear gloves for a whipping, unlike Vere. Damen simply picked the whip from its ornate cushioned box, feeling it in his hands as Korus was properly secured. He was damn lucky Laurent was being merciful.

He cracked the whip once to remember how it was done, and the sound nearly made him flinch—a reaction he had not been expecting. It jolted him back to that moment in Arles, when he had—for several moments—thought he was going to die at Laurent’s hand.

Damen only faltered for a moment. Then he readied his whip an watched as Pallas untied Korus’s chiton and dropped it down so that his back was exposed. Damen forced himself to think of how close Laurent had come to death. How that spear could have impaled him.

He struck with al of his might. The crowd gasped as Korus screamed out, an angry red line splitting open on his back. Damen wondered if this was what Laurent had seen, if he had watched with joy as Damen was lashed.

He let the pain sink in, but his stomach began to drop when he whipped Korus a second time, then a third. Blood began to let from the wounds, dripping down his back and onto the marble floors.

Damen handed the whip back to Nikandros, fighing not to turn green.

“Take him away.” Then, softer, “Make sure he is seen by a physician."

* * *

Laurent watched the scene, focused in appearance, but detached from it completely in his mind. He surveyed it, as one might simply exist around an event in a dream - there, but with no discerning presence or ability to do anything about it. It would have been too difficult to process watching this young boy led to the post, even one with the crime Korus had committed.

It had been some time since he’d heard a whip crack, and it brought him to for a moment, but where the crowd’s eyes went to Korus’ back, Laurent’s went straight to Damen. They shared the memory after all, but stood on two very opposing sides of it. Laurent could not even think to worry about Korus for that long moment where Damen flinched, started, and composed himself. Laurent watched every moment of it.

Today was just the day for guilt, it seemed.

The screams from Korus certainly tried to drag Laurent’s attention the other way, but by that point, his attention was still on Damen. Few would be able to read his expression, would be able to say just how intently he was gauging Damen’s reactions, for to the crowd - if anyone could teat their eyes from the punishment - would only see Laurent as bored, at most. He had sat back in this throne, comfortably looking down his nose at the young boy who had tried to kill him.

Korus’ back was nowhere near as terrible as Damen’s had been, but for a pet, any sort of tarnish on the backside was a drop in value. With the slashes and the short hair, Korus would be forced to grow up and out of his past. He would never see it that way, but Laurent had to focus on the positive of that. He couldn’t carry any more guilt than he already had without it souring his mood.

And he needed to focus on Damen.

Before the whip could be handed back, Laurent was already on his feet, crossing the arena to take Damen’s wrist, and then his hand, holding it and squeezing it with reassurance. It was doubtful the crowd would know this as anything more than gratitude, as the only lover’s embrace a king so cold as Laurent could give, but Laurent would have done it even if someone could pick it out for what it was: a silent apology.

* * *

Damen had expected to find it easy to punish Korus. As much as he liked the boy, they really didn’t have much of a relationship beyond mentor and student. Korus was not eager to learn swordsmanship or to hide away in the woods learning how to live off the land, so they didn’t interact much outside of training. But Damen had kept an eye on him, had made sure he survived without too much bullying.

And now he had marred him for life. Something Damen had done a dozen times before, but it was the first time he had done so after what Laurent had done to him. His own back twitched, like all of his scars were itching at once, though Damen hadn’t thought about them for almost a year.

Now he felt like he was going to be sick.

Laurent’s hand helped…slightly. The image of it all was not lost on the crowd. They watched Laurent carefully, then watched Damen for his response to it all.

Damen was silent as Korus was untied and dragged from the arena. His sobs echoed in the hall.

Then there was a clap, followed by another until the while room was applauding a just and merciful punishment executed by both kings, /together/.

Damen could only think about how Laurent had whipped him dozens of times, angrily, forcefully, in ways intended to hurt as much as possible.

Nikandros took the whip with a nod, bowing low before he left.

“I’d like to go to bed now,” Damen said as the clapping subsided. He looked over to Laurent, offering a weak smile. He didn’t want Laurent to feel guilty. Their past was a heavy weight for both of them.

* * *

Korus’ sobbing did try to tug Laurent into forgiveness, into guilt and generosity, but he managed to shake it when he thought about the crime Korus had been punished for. Laurent had momentarily thought to go back on his decision to alter Korus’ appearance further, but once he reminded himself this was a charge for the attempted murder of the king, he could stomach the full decree. In fact, he wished he might have started with that, wished he would have /thought/ less about his image in the event of a lashing and more about Damen’s response.

He’d nearly killed Damen.

He’d never been punished for it.

Laurent only listened as Korus was dragged away.  
It was something he would have to completely process when his sentence was up, when Korus had returned raw and angry, exhausted and - ideally - a man. Hope was not lost on Korus, though Laurent knew Damen might think so. He was just still so young, clinging so strongly to who he had been. Laurent could not hold that against him. Even Nicaise would had even broken under this punishment, and Laurent had had more faith in him than any of them. His mind had been so sharp...

Laurent shook it from his head before another terribly memory could settle in his conscience.

“Then we will go to bed,” Laurent agreed with Damen, just loud enough to be heard over the crowd‘s revelry. The support was welcome, but it had begun to overwhelm, especially with the mood Damen and Laurent were both in - the /memory/ they were both in. He led Damen away, walking backwards until he could not do so safely anymore, and they left the applause, the celebration, the merrymaking behind.

Two Veretian guards and one Akielon guard followed them down the hall, got a very rare insight into who Laurent could truly be. Once he and Damen had made it far enough way from public view, Laurent stopped in the hallway, stopped Damen with him, and placed his hand on either side of Damen’s cheeks. He pulled him down into a kiss - his forehead, his eyelids, the tip of his nose - all done softly and quickly. He needed Damen here, in this moment, before he slipped too far in it all.

* * *

Damen was still woozy as he followed Laurent out into the hall. The city was erupting again, but this time in celebration. Now that the punishment was dealt, proper festivities could continue. Horns blared, dancers began to twirl, and men and women congregated in the crisp air of a waning winter. Damen still felt the chill, however. So much so that he didn’t even realize Laurent had stopped until he was being tugged.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “I—“

Lauent lips were soft, and his hands were warm. Damen was transported back to many nights before this one where Laurent held him tenderly, loved and cherished him. Laurent was not the same man who had raised a whip to his back.

He rested his forehead against Laurent’s when he was finished, closing his eyes. He drank in the scent of the Akielon soaps, the massage oil, the earthy scent of the stones that all still clung to Laurent’s fair skin.

“Thank you,” Damen finally said, clearing his throat. He straightened up again. “I did not expect the task to be so…like that.”

He nodded, mostly to himself, then found Laurent’s hand again and started back down the hall. A part of him knew he should be out with his people, but he hoped they could at least understand that he wanted to be with Laurent in the privacy of their own chambers.

His scars still itched, and he was afraid of scratching them. Like doing so might cause the long-healed tissue to suddenly burst open and bleed anew.

“Are you hungry?” Damen asked as they reached the door. Then, a better question: “When did you last eat?"

* * *

He had Damen, even if his beloved did take his time in speaking. He acknowledged Laurent, at least, nuzzled against him, let Laurent know he was in there, that he would come to when he could, and Laurent stayed patient. He was not as confident as Damen in closing his eyes in this hallway, but Laurent gave Damen the courtesy of looking down at the floor and now watching Damen pull himself out of his memories.

They did not need to be back there. They were, the both of them, totally different people now. They’d been merely princes then, neither of them with any sort of real grasp on what their time together would hold. Laurent, like Korus, had still been an ill shaped brat, poisoned by Vere without any power, friends, or trust. Damen had—

Always been a terribly good man.

When Damen spoke again, Laurent flicked his eyes up, and though he did not respond, he acknowledged and reassured Damen with a soft touch to his cheek, encouraging him to be as strong as he usually was. The guards, who had long since averted their gazes, turned only when they heard their respective kings headed off down the hallway again, where they would lock themselves away until morning, undoubtedly.

“I ate—“ Laurent started, thinking for a moment, eyes off in the distance as if there might be someone there with the answer for him. “—breakfast.”

Laurent was twenty-one years old - still growing, fiercely independent - with all the wrong priorities. He’d shirked off eating for learning, and would always do so unless an attendant brought him food. Then it was something he would mindlessly eat while he worked, but no one in Akielos had been there to do that for him. It was pretty pitiful.

“I was planning on a nice dinner, and then a spear was thrown at my face, and it forestalled all my plans,” Laurent played off with a shrug, though now that Damen had mentioned it, he certainly /could/ eat.

“My champion did not offer me sweets or sustenance,” Laurent went on, hoping to arouse better memories in Damen’s mind now that the opportunity arose. “He only gave me himself. And he would not even let me keep him in my mouth.”

* * *

Damen had to laugh at Laurent’s innuendo, then ushered him into their chambers. Before he entered he signalled for an attendant, a voluptuous young woman with light eyes and soft lips that smiled at him when she neared.

“Dinner for myself and His Majesty,” Damen instructed. “And wine.”

“At once, Exalted,” she replied in a breathy tone. She bowed low and headed back down the hall. In his younger days he would have called her back and fucked her before sending her off for her task—as she clearly wanted with her wandering eyes and swinging hips. And while he did find her pleasing to look at, he had no interest now—which was still odd for him. He only wanted Laurent.

“Our meal is on the way,” he told Laurent as he entered and immediately began to discard his sandals. “I hope you don’t mind me drinking wine. I think it would be best to distract my thinking.” He didn’t mean it as an insult, he simply wanted to focus on simpler things, and he knew his mind would wander if he wasn’t careful.

“Korus is in safe hands,” he added. “Nikandros will not have him harmed further."

* * *

Laurent crossed the threshold of their chambers with every intention of just helping Damen relax, but he cut himself off as Damen address the young woman who practically ate Damen up with her eyes. They roamed up and down him, and when she bowed, she dared to flick them up to look at her king through her lashes before taking off down the hall, eager to attend him.

Since his youth, Laurent could only name a handful of female attendants he’d had. Since he’d been in Akielos, he’d realised that was /exclusively/ what Damen had.

It was a brief distraction, something to think about that was not his guilt.

His attention went back to Damen, and the moment they were alone, he knelt before him. In one easy movement, Laurent was on one knee, offering a place for Damen to put his foot so Laurent could help with his sandals.

“I’ve no doubts Korus is in safe hands,” Laurent assured Damen, honestly trying to distract his own thoughts from that at the same time. “I’m much more worried if you feel like /you/ are in safe hands.” He discarded one of Damen’s sandals. “If not, I will not take offence if you need time without me here. It would be understandable after that.”

Laurent was still being a /bit/ too diplomatic. He’d put it on when the girl had been called in and it had not left him yet, but it was also the truth. If Damen needed time away from him, Laurent would go.

He kissed Damen’s calf and, when both his sandals were off, Laurent stood and outstretched his hands to take Damen’s laurel to its resting place. He wanted Damen comfortable.

The hot stones felt like they had been ages ago.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: character death

Damen was momentarily shocked when Laurent knelt to help him with his sandals. It was not something a king should do for another king, but he didn’t say anything. After all, he’d just removed one of Laurent’s sandals with his teeth not a few hours ago.

His brow furrowed. “Why would I not want you here?” he asked, genuinely curious. Even when the worse of the feeling of whipping Korus had dawned on him, he felt no malice toward Laurent. He knew what had happened in Arles was a long time ago, even if he still bore the wounds on his back and always would. That Laurent was very different than the one pressing lips to his calf.

He dipped his head so Laurent could take his crown, then crossed over to him, gently winding his arms around him from behind.

"Are /you/ upset?” he asked into the shell of Laurent’s ear. “I know I am safe. To be quite honest, I have never been afraid of you. Even when you wished I was.” He smiled, nuzzling against his soon-to-be husband.

“I need more time /with/ you,” he said, tightening his hold just a little. “Perhaps I could convince you to read me a story while I drink my wine. I think that would put me right to sleep—because your voice soothes me, not because you’re boring. Though I have seen you address the council, and I know you can be."

* * *

Laurent was not upset, and he was quick to let Damen know that. Like Damen, his mind had gone to their past. Regret had sunk into his heart, yes, but it was the past. Laurent realistically knew there was nothing they could do about it now. He could only be better. For Damen.

“I hate to think about it,” Laurent did say honestly, and wrapped in Damen’s embrace, he drew his finger down Damen’s spine, sensitive fingertips able to pick out every deep scar. He frowned. He had only recently - within the past few months - been able to touch Damen’s back at all. He might have not even thought about it had it not been for Korus’ punishment.

“But I am not upset, no. I merely meant that, sometimes, being alone can help.” He turned Damen’s face in his hands and pressed a kiss to his temple. “For me, it does. At times.”

But Damen had always been consistent in his desires for companionship. It was when he wanted to be alone that Laurent knew they were in real trouble.

“You would stain the bed with wine,” Laurent chuckled at Damen’s offer of the remainder of their evening, but it was hardly a ‘no.’ If Damen wanted a story read to him, Laurent would tell every one he knew. It was the very least he could do for Damen after all he’d done for Laurent today. Well before today....

“But I suppose wine stains are better than what I had to suffer through last time.”

It was so nice to enjoy the sea breeze without the taint of metallic blood.

* * *

Dinner arrived with the wine, and Damen realized when he smelled the smoked meat that he hadn’t eaten since before the competition. He scarfed down his food, trying to make light of things. Being alone didn’t help Damen in times like this. Being alone only made him fall further into his despair, further into his head. He needed Laurent there to stabilize him, to remind him that he was here now.

He as on a third glass of wine by the time eating was over, and his cheeks were warm, his vision fuzzy with fondness. He smiled dopily at Laurent across their little dining table in the study area of the bedchamber, then Damen stood from his seat.

“I want you to stroke my hair and tell me a story,” he announced, extending his hands for Laurent to take. “That would make me very happy.”

He searched for the wine bottle, but couldn’t focus enough to locate it all that well.

“Can—hic—we bring the wine?”

Nikandros would be cackling if he had any idea Damianos was tipsy after three glasses. In his defense, he’d had an empty stomach /and/ drank them all quickly.

* * *

Watching Damen drink over dinner ate a rate faster than Laurent could drink his water was alarming, to say the very least. Laurent watched him unabashed, eyebrow raised when he downed his second glass and began to pour a third. He supposed it was /one/ way to handle things. Were the drinking not fueled by worries in their past, it would have been amusing. But…whatever helped.

“We are not bringing the wine to bed,” Laurent denied Damen before that mess could be made. He took Damen’s searching hand instead, laced their fingers together, and led him over to the bed. Damen was not a lightweight, so he had no worries of the giant man stumbling or keeling over onto the floor, so Laurent led him pretty swiftly, undeterred.

“If you are drinking, how will you rest your head in my lap without spilling wine on me?” Laurent asked, and still clothed in his chiton, he slipped into their bed, legs crossed for Damen to rest in. “And would you expect me to /stop/ every time you want to lift your head to take a sip?”

Laurent had a way of talking to drunk and tipsy people that could be unkind sounding - and for the most part /was/ - but he did not mean to sound so condescending as he spoke, and he hoped Damen could realize that. It was the mix of judgement and actual care he had for Damen making him sound like this. He hated being drunk, could not empathize with those who enjoyed it and thus could sound a little…bitchy.

He kissed Damen’s forehead in hopes of softening it all.

* * *

Damen would vouch for himself in saying he wasn’t actually drunk, but merely tipsy as he followed Laurent to bed. Without the wine bottle in hand he had already forgotten about it, instead opting to keep his gaze on Laurent’s ass as he led the way in that very short chiton. The thought of having his head in Laurent’s lap was one that made him very warm all over. Or maybe that was just the wine.

“You could stop for other reasons,” Damen said with a dopey smile as he rolled into bed to splay out in his back. “Like to kiss me,” he offered.

He closed his eyes, his belly full and his blood warm with drink. All thoughts of being lashed were gone.

“What story will you tell me?” he asked, nuzzling into the mattress. “Are my cheeks warm? They feel warm.”

* * *

“Other reasons,” Laurent repeated with a laugh, reaching out to Damen and picking him up by the head, moving about to Damen could rest on his crossed calves. It probably was not the most comfortable part of his leg, but Damen - and his head - was heavy. Laurent could only do so much.

He moved his fingers into Damen’s hair and, when asked, he pressed the back of his hand to his beloved’s cheeks, smiling when he had to confirm that they were, in fact, warm.

“What would Nikandros say?” Laurent asked, thumb running along Damen’s cheek. “A third of a bottle of wine.”

Damen was so charming, flushed in the slightest, relaxed and at ease despite what had just transpired. It was a triumph to have let that go for the evening, even if he was just compartmentalizing it somewhere else in his mind. Laurent hoped his tenderness here might be so vastly juxtaposed to the man that had Damen whipped so viciously, that Damen would only be lulled further and further from the memory.

He situated Damen’s head again and, with a kiss to his forehead, Laurent tried to think what story would be best to recount. He knew /so/ many - almost /too/ many.

And he landed on one that might be silly, might be fantastical and clearly told mainly to children, but Laurent remembered a time where it was his favorite to hear Auguste tell. And he’d told it so often.

The story was merely about a snake - a large snake that man after man tried to kill and kill and kill, but came to no avail, for every time they tried, the snake merely outwitted them. Whether climbing up further than the men could reach, or merely blending in with the snowy banks of the mountains, the snake always survived until, one day, while burrowing into a hole on a causeway, it slithered into /another/ snake its very same size! The snakes instantly fell in love, and had many many snake children - so many that, one day, they took over all of the land killed all its men, and—

“Oh no,” Laurent said quite suddenly, looking down at Damen, expressionless and bland. “It seems they missed one.”

And with that, Laurent struck out, his hand made to look like a snake, right into Damen’s stomach. A moment later, his second hand joined in, creating the two snakes as Auguste used to do with him just before he began to tickle Laurent mercilessly. It was time for Laurent to pass down the legacy.

* * *

“I’m not drunk,” Damen made sure to insist. “Warm doesn’t mean drunk.” It was true, though he was pleasantly filled with drink. He smiled wide, fully enveloped in the scent of Laurent after being washed and oiled. He smelled like Akielos now, and Damen wasn’t sure he would ever wish for him to smell like Arles again.

He listened to the story, focusing mostly on the depth of Laurent’s voice reverberating through his skull. As expected, Laurent was a wonderful storyteller, even for a children’s story. Damen found himself laughing at silly parts. His eyes flew open when they finally got to the punchline, but it was too late.

Thankfully Damen at least had a second to process what was coming so he didn’t shoot up and crack skulls with his betrothed, but he did let out a yelp, sucking into himself when the tickling began.

“You tricked me!” he laughed, reaching up to hook Laurent’s shoulders to bring him down to him as if they were wrestling. He twisted and writhed, tugging Laurent down as the tickling continued. He dug his fingers into Laurent’s ribs, tickling mercilessly before bowling him over to a heated kiss.

He hadn’t really planned on the kiss, but he held it anyway, pressing Laurent into the mattress, his hands stilling.

“I love that story,” he decided. “Just like I love you."

* * *

Laurent knew his tickling would turn into an ordeal, but he’s also expected Damen to muck it up with his wine and his relaxed state. He’d not expected Damen to react so quickly, let alone so well, and soon, Laurent was heels over head, tickling Damen with all he had.

There was no hold he could get with his Damen took his arms, so he bet everything on doubling his weight over and attempting to disarm Damen with his tickling.

He did not win.

In a moment, he’d gone from laughing to a surprised groan, pinned beneath Damen in a kiss that came out if nowhere. A kiss had not been the plan of this little trick, but Laurent would hardly complain.

He let his arms fall limp above his head on the bed, kissed Damen back with matched passion, and laid back when it was over, panting from the little attack they’d fought against each other.

“From my childhood,” Laurent told Damen, still grinning and laughing between his heavy breathing. “I thought you might enjoy it. The snakes have been defeated again.”

The last bit Auguste used to say every time he out-tickled Laurent. It had been a lesson, he was sure, something about the good guy always winning, but it was just a game for Laurent. Truly and always had been.

Laurent, in a quick movement, shot his arms up around Damen and, where he could have tickled him, he merely held him, one hand in his curls, cradling Damen’s head to his chest.

“We should go to bed,” Laurent told him, nuzzling him before relaxing back into the bedding again. “There is still much to be done.”

* * *

It did not take long for Damen to nuzzle up against Laurent after being held so tenderly. He moved over so that Laurent could sleep more comfortably, welcoming him against the mattress. The wine helped him feel ready for sleep, and his eyes were heavy as he murmured soft things to Laurent as they situated themselves for bed. He didn’t even remove his chiton.

When he woke, it was because Laurent shoved him. Damen felt it was a rather rough shove for the early morning, especially when the sun was not yet up. Then Laurent shove him again, this time more of a shake. He heard a loud crack as he continued to be shaken.

“Laurent, what the hell could you possibly fucking want?” Damen snapped, sitting up.

But Laurent was beside him, still to heavy on the mattress to have shaken him so harshly. Damen blinked in the darkness until he heard the clanging of pans and dishes hitting the marble tiles and recognized what was happening.

This was no minor quake, and he had personally seen what it looked like when the beautiful marble arches of royal houses collapsed on their inhabitants.

Damen bolted from bed and did not wait for Laurent to speak before he scooped him up from the mattress.

“Earthquake!” Damen said, panic rising in his voice. He set Laurent down but didn’t stop moving, tugging him along. The sound of marble cracking was godly, like the sky had descended and thunder was clapping above them. He had Laurent’s wrist in a vicegrip, terrified of what would happen if they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“To the sand,” Damen shouted to anyone who would listen. “Sound the alarms! Everyone to the beaches, now! Save the women and children!”

He almost stopped dead.

_Cosmas._

* * *

Laurent probably slept that best he had yet in Ios that evening. The temperature had dropped enough that he did not feel sticky when he curled up to Damen. A light rain started in what Laurent’s body told him was the early morning, but the light outside said otherwise. They had a few more hours to sleep yet, and he chased them, lulled by the sea and the rain.

He was up before Damen by only seconds, shaken awake by the small rumble of the earth that came just before the first sharp tremor. He clung to the mattress, knew immediately what this was in theory, but not knowing exactly what that meant. The earth was quaking yes, but would it do it again?

It did, and Damen woke with a snap that Laurent did not have time to argue or justify. Not when he picked up the magnitude of the situation from a Damen’s expression—

It was the last logical thing Laurent could process before absolute chaos broke out.

Damen hauled him up, and Laurent righted himself, having fallen into Damen with another shaking of the earth. They were meant to stay upright during this? They had about as much of a chance as the—

Palace.

Damen stopped in his tracks for a reason Laurent understood immediately, and that one hesitation gave way to the first bit of limestone. It fell and crashed onto the floor of their chambers, shattering and splintering across the floor, scattering and sliding, shaking with the earth.

Laurent processed it all a beat faster than Damen.

He took off. Laurent had always been fast, and with a distraction, he could easily slip from Damen’s grip, but this wasn’t an /escape/. Laurent, like Damen, very much had a responsibility in this palace.

Weaving through servants, through guards, through screaming and shock and precious art and stone falling all around, Laurent took the path he knew - one of the only ones he’d been able to learn, one Damen did not know he knew, but he had no basis to hide now.

The earth shook again, and Laurent caught himself on the nearest pillar, pushed right off of it and kept going. He checked back for Damen, but kept moving, not at all heeding the crashing around him, the large quakes added to the natural ones of things - large structures and foundations - falling about the palace, /in/ the palace.

His bare feet skid on a scattered piece of limestone, and when Laurent saw the actual first scene of destruction like this in his life. He stopped before it, looking at the collapsed pillars, fallen inward with their roofs given way, putting strain on the pillars still standing around it. Laurent could see a man arm, Akielon, lying limp beneath the pile.

It was the crying from before that pierced his ears, pulled him from the sight before him, and before he could fully be caught up with, he took the hard right into the hallway he’d known before, frantically /squeezing/ himself through the semi-folded iron door, ripping his chiton as he did so, but he was hardly worried about that. No, he’d run all this way for—

“Cosmas.”

The baby was screaming, laid out on the floor, sprawled and partially unwrapped from his swath of fabric. Laurent scooped him up, and if he’d had the time to breathe a sigh of relief, he would have.

* * *

Suddenly Laurent was gone. One moment Damen had his wrist secured, the next there was nothing. He thought at first that Laurent had been crushed by falling debris, but then he caught the flash of his chiton as he ran off.

“Laurent!” Damen screamed, tearing off after him. He was heading /deeper/ into the palace. But fear did strange things, and Damen was determined to catch his beloved before he got himself crushed.

The halls were quickly filling with people rushing out toward the sea—Akielons were not inexperienced with earthquakes, but ones of this magnitude were rare. Damen was having trouble keeping his footing, falling to his knees more than once as he charged after Laurent in almost complete darkness. Columns were crashing, and a chunk of marble rolled in front of him, nearly sending him face first into the ground.

He heard the sound of a baby crying, and Damen only had the chance to look over before Laurent was running into the room that had been used as Jokaste’s cell since the fall of Kastor. Damen forced his way through the door behind Laurent, watching with growing concern as Cosmas was scooped form the floor.

“We need to go,” Damen shouted over the crying child and the chaos. But he was looking into the cell, where bars had been bent and furniture toppled.

Jokaste looked like she had merely fallen asleep on the floor, both arms outstretched past the bars in a final effort to safe her child. Her blonde hair was a golden fountain around her fair face, her pink lips slightly parted, her eyes closed.

The rest of her body was hidden beneath a toppled wardrobe, but dark blood was pooling around her midsection.

“Jokaste,” Damen breathed, rushing to her. The gate to her cell was crushed, unable to be opened. He knew she was dead just by looking at her, but he fought to free her anyway. He had loved her once, long ago. He couldn’t just allow her to die here without at least trying to save her.

“Help me!” he cried to Laurent, taking Jokaste’s cooling hands and tugging. “We have to get her out!"

* * *

Laurent held Cosmas close to him, managed to keep the child to his chest even as the ground shook and sent Laurent for a moment to his knees. He righted himself, Cosmas still safe at his chest, let his eyes flit about the room for any exit that wouldn’t include that small opening—

And his eyes fell on Damen, on his panic, on his /pleading/, and then, on what he had seen.

Jokaste.

She’d been trapped, unable to go anywhere too far, unable to flee with her child. Her cell was so small - as was to be expected of someone who had betrayed their king and lived to tell about it - and it seemed no one had the time or had /tried/ to free her. She had clearly tried herself, had made her effort to do what she could for the baby, but without any place to run....

Cosmas screamed in Laurent’s arms, so Laurent awkwardly adjusted him into something more...soothing? He held Cosmas’ head, hoping to quiet him as Laurent moved over to Damen, watched him struggle through the bars.

“Damen—“ Laurent started, hooking his hand around Damen’s forearm and giving him a desperate pull. Guards were yelling just down the hall, ordering people out. Foundations shifted and groaned around them, threatened a similar fate to them if they did not leave.

Cosmas would not stop /crying/.

“Damen, we have to go.” Laurent urged as he tugged at Damen again. There was no use in getting into the cell, no use in moving the wardrobe if they could, no use in taking the time to drag her out. Laurent hated the idea of leaving her there, of not giving her the right to a beautiful farewell befitting to a woman of her stature, but they could not risk it. Any more time in here would lead then both to the same end.

Laurent bent down and took Damen’s wrist, squeezed it hard in an attempt to force him to free his grasp. Her hand was so small in his, so pale. Laurent had tried to free her - he’d tried to free her twice, could have had her out of here, with her child. And there she was, and there she would stay. Laurent gave Damen a final tug, nearly toppling once more. He kept himself mindful of Cosmas in his arm.

“Damen, I’m so sorry, but /leave her/,” Laurent said in one breath, as close to frantic as Laurent could be. They weren’t out of this. They weren’t even close to it. “Damen, she’s /gone/. Let’s /go/!”

* * *

Damen refused to leave her. He knew that when these walls collapsed it would be weeks if not months before her body was recovered. Cosmas would not have a mother, nor would he ever have the chance to say goodbye to her. Damen had put a lot of faith in her being the one to show him the errors of Kastor’s ways, but now she was dead.

He didn’t even notice the crumbling palace around him, his gaze was locked on Jokaste’s closed eyes. He wondered if she’d felt pain. If she’d been alive for minutes after or if she’s died instantly. He imagined the former, because there was no blood from Cosmas as there may have been if he’d been thrown to the floor.

An aftershock rattle through the palace. Damen had experienced plenty when he’d left Arles to return to his people to help in the aftermath of the first quake.

Laurent’s panicked voice was the only thing that threw him from his stupor. He squeezed Jokaste’s wrist one last time. Then he grabbed at her sleeve with both hands and tugged hard enough to rip the thin silk from the seams. He wanted Cosmas to have /something/ to remember her by.

Damen stood without a word. He stayed close to Laurent as they made their way out of the room, then he grabbed a shield from the ground where a guard lay dead. He lifted it above them and gripped tight to Laurent’s chiton to keep him close before starting off down the hall. Rock and debris clattered against the shield as they ran, and Damen could feel cuts forminf on his exposed shoulders.

“Keep Cosmas to your chest!” he told Laurent over the deafening sounds of destruction. “This way!”

But this way was blocked, cleaved pillars blocking the way to the sea. Damen hauled Laurent to the right and shoved him through and entryway into the center gardens where statues had fallen to create a marble graveyard of severed limbs.

“We have to go into the city,” Damen explained, feeling a little safer in the gardens. He shoved his way through bushes,his chiton tearing in all kinds of places as he did so. They were not safe yet. “You will stay as close as you can. We cannot be separated.” He turned to Laurent, his eyes wet.

“I will not lose you."

* * *

They stayed too long - /far/ too long. Laurent understood the hesitation, understood why Damen felt the need to stay, but they /couldn’t/. They knew where she was, would know where to find her body, where to dig, /if/ they got out of the palace to point it out later. They would give her a proper burial, would honor her as Akielos did not feel she needed, but they could not do it /now/.

“Damen!” Laurent yelled, angry and panicked, desperate for him to move because Laurent could not move Damen. Cosmas wailed, and Laurent was not sure if it was ultimately his yelling or the baby’s that brought Damen to.

They did not stop to talk about it.

Laurent glanced back once more at her body while Damen took up the guard’s shield, trying to commit this spot to memory, what was around her, what they might have to seek out to find her. They would do with by Jokaste.

On the way out of the room, Laurent ripped up a blanket, doubling down on the wrap about Comas should he fall in all of this. Running with a tender-skulled baby through a violently collapsing palace was not a sport Laurent had much practice in at all, and the more padding he could afford the infant, the better. He clutched Cosmas, and probably not in the best position, but Laurent could not say he had ever truly /held/ a baby. All he knew was Cosmas was safe to his chest, still breathing, still /crying/, and still very much alive.

In the gardens, Laurent took a second to breathe. The open air, cleared of any close pillars let them have a moment. If a pillar fell in here, it could be assumed they would have enough time to dodge it. Statues were an entirely different story, and the foundation, broken with thick roots and trees, would not be conducive to a much longer stay. Laurent stared up at the sky, the darkness that seemed uncharacteristic for this time of day, the thunder that rumbled so frequently there was no discerning between it and the rumble of the ground moving beneath them. The lightening made this area a little more dangerous, and the rain left little pink streaks to run down Damen’s shoulders, to pool at Laurent's feet.

He pulled his gaze from the sky to look at Damen, caught the tears in his eyes, and Laurent wished he could do /anything/ to stop them, but this was not the time for comfort. This was not the time to process anything but escape.

“You won’t lose me,” he did promise Damen, “I’m right beside you.”

And he stayed beside Damen as they weaved through pillar and marble, slipped through displaced pool waters, steadied each other during aftershocks, avoided the bodies of those crushed beneath limestone. Veretian and Akielon men and women alike, none too familiar to Laurent. He recognized a few men of his guard, undoubtedly crushed in their efforts to find him. Laurent wondered where Jord was, Lucien, Lazar…

The steps to the palace had cracked and shattered, caved in a jagged formation, and it was the one thing they had to take /slow/, had to risk the time to descend safely enough so as to not end up in the cracks, slipping down, falling and hurting Cosmas. The rain did not help, and neither did the flicker of fires around, undoubtedly from overturned braziers, the strikes of lightning. The smoke in the air suggested a much larger fire, but Laurent did not see the flames, and it smelled so terribly different than that of set fire, even pyres that burned bodies. It was much more acrid, much…./more/.

Laurent caught himself before he slipped, having been too concentrated on the sky. They had only climbed about halfway down the stairs, and he needed to focus.

* * *

Damen kept himself together for Laurent. Something was wrong here—dawn had not broken and it was long past the time when the sun should have risen. It briefly occurred to him that maybe this was the end of the world, but he pressed on through the smoke and flames anyway. For now he was still here, and so was Laurent, so was his nephew.

He realized as they started down the stairs that they were bad idea, but it was too late to turn back. Ios was in ruin. Fires licked at the thatched roofs of outskirt homes, and lamps swung wildly in windows as the earth continued to tremble. Laurent had a baby on his chest throughout it all, and Cosmas was red in the face with his crying, covered in dust and ash.

It took far too long, but they did finally reach hard ground. Before they started to the beached though, Damen tore strips of his chiton, thankful he was still wearing something light instead of the much less forgiving fabric of his training clothes.

“Sit,” Damen demanded, pointing to a toppled statue of his great grandfather that would have to serve as a bench. He did not allow Laurent to argue before he lifted Laurent’s feet and began wrapping the strips of his chiton around his foot the way they sometimes did when soldiers were training in freshly dug pits that could still contain rocks.

It didn’t take long to get Laurent’s feet wrapped, then Damen pulled him up to stand again, checking him over for injuries. He saw nothing dire.

“Royal feet,” he joked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You are lucky you have not split them open already.”

With that, he led Laurent toward the city, starting on a route he knew had the fewest tall building and statues.

Above them, the storm churned.

* * *

“This hardly feels like the time to sit!” Laurent yelled over all the noise, but he supposed this was the least danger they had been in since this began. The buildings here had already toppled, and so long as they did not attract the storm, Laurent could sit. On Damen’s grandfather. He already felt Ios was angry enough, and this would be a step too far, but he sat as instructed, shushing Cosmas the entire time.

Damen wrapped his feet, which Laurent was very grateful for. He had stepped on many a chipped rock and piece of limestone, and he knew for a fact that he’d scratched his leg on the cell in his rush to grab Cosmas. But he was not injured - not in a way that mattered.

A crack of thunder startled him for only a moment, and Cosmas - as he did - wailed in response, but no one stopped to do anything about it. People were still running, still screaming. A baby’s cry only blended into the noise, and song the chaos, no one would have recognized their two kings sitting there, covered in dirt, in blood, their chitons torn and ruined, their bodies soaked.

Laurent moved back to his now-wrapped feet, adjusted Cosmas and nodded for Damen to continue down the path. For the moment, the earth stood still, and they could move a little more freely, though they had to stay cautious.

“Where will we go?” Laurent yelled over the storm. “Should we take horses?” /Could/ they take horses? Did they still have horses?

* * *

“We’re too far from the stables,” Damen said with a shake of his head. He feared there wouldn’t be any horses left for them to ride anyway, ad he wouldn’t even trust Nikri in this uncertain landscape. The storm made things much worse, and the lightning seemed to be right on top of them. Damen could feel his hair standing up with each flash.

“Stay close,” he said, pulling Laurent to stand in front of him, practically at his chest. He wanted to be able to catch him if he fell so that Cosmas would not be dropped again.

There was a loud thud to his right, and Damen wrapped himself around Laurent as a wave of rock cascaded down from a crumbling house. The small rockslide knocked them off their feet, but Damen kept his hold and took the impact with his shoulder. Cosmas screeched, but then he was coughing and sputtering, unable to keep himself crying.

Rock collided with his back, and he did his best to cover Laurent and Cosmas’s heads with his bent arm to protect their fragile skulls.

“Are you hurt?” Damen asked when it was finally over. His back was pressed to a small mountain of rubble, and smaller pebbles continued to rain down. His legs were buried, but none of it was heavy.

“We have to go to the docks,” Damen finally said, exhaustion and pain seizing their chance to catch up to him. “We must get on a boat and go to the beaches to save those we can.”

He opened his mouth to say more but something hot seared the back of his neck. His exhaustion vanished as he clambered up, grabbing Laurent by the shoulders and hauling him up too. It wasn’t his intention to manhandle, but he saw no other way to get moving. Pin needles of fire began to rain down from the sky and Damen wished he hadn't lost the shield.

“Cover Cosmas!” he yelled. “Run, Laurent!” They both knew Laurent was faster. “Straight on this direction, the docks are just past here. Board the first ship you can find and get to cover! I’ll catch you!"

* * *

Laurent had no warning for it, but he took the most protective stance he could as Damen thudded into him and rocks began to tumble down atop them. He threw an arm out in front of him, arched his body around Cosmas and created what shelter he could for the infant as dust and dirt filled their eyes and lungs. He kept his head down, though his instincts said it was wiser to keep it up in case his body was overtaken and he needed to breathe, but luckily, Damen caught the brunt of the slide.

He coughed as he stood, and in a way that was almost a little too crass for Laurent, he spat, trying to get any amount of dirt from his mouth. He was practically completely caked in mud and dirt now, smeared with clay and something much darker at his shoulders, in his hair. It was…black whatever it was.

“Not hurt,” he sputtered, smearing the black across his face as he wiped his eyes, then turned his attention to Cosmas who was absolutely filthy. Laurent tried to wipe it all away as he listened to Damen, finally taking a moment to breathe—

As it was instantly taken away from them.

Laurent had never heard such a sound. A roar and a rumble, deafening to the ears, followed by the sound of whizzing, the warmth of fire.

A /lot/ of fire.

The first bit of it started to rain down around them, instantly setting trees ablaze. Laurent frantically brushed away a burning piece of what he now figured to be ash from his bare arm, and he had the sense to wish he was in his Veretian clothing now, as literal fire rained down on them. He stared in absolute horror as the visible streaks of hot liquid began to pour about them sporadically. The trees would only cover what they could while they stood, and Laurent could reason that would not be long.

He started to speak, but he knew there was no use in arguing this. He had Cosmas and he knew - hoped with all he had - that Damen would catch up. They had to survive this.

“Do not fall far behind,” he ordered, and with a rough and quick kiss, Laurent took off down the path Damen designated, and as much as he wanted to, he did not look back. He kept his head low and /ran/ as hard as he could, weaving through a city he did not know in hopes of hitting the docks soon. He needed to be there, needed to get people on the boats, needed to /help/.

The wraps on his feet did not do much as he cleared the trees and protective buildings that still stood, where small fires had been set all around. He kept his track straight towards the docks, stepping on a myriad of rocks and embers. He did not know how many times he had been burnt, how many scrapes or bruises had had, did not even know what the rock slide had done to him, but he kept running, knowing that Cosmas was safe at the very least.

The docks cleared the crest of a hill and Laurent pushed forward, darting across the landscape, down the rock and sand path to the dock where boats had already begun to take off to the island. There was screaming, pushing, panic.

Amidst the cacophony of sound and music, not a soul even recognized him at the dock, probably thought him any other inhabitant of Akielos in the chaos. It was not until Jord ran up to him, squeezed his arms and exclaimed he had Laurent that anyone seemed to care.

* * *

Damen was badly hurt. As soon as Laurent was lost to the smoke and fire, the reality began to set in. His feet were cut and burned, his legs too, and his back was a mess of bruising, blood, and dust. More embers landed on his shoulders and back as he trudged forward, forcing himself to continue. He had to make sure Laurent was safe.

it seemed to take ages before Damen finally made it from the city. People were huddled on the docks and beaches, some screaming, most in pain, all covered in dust. Damen coughed out soot and dust, completely battered. People shoved their way past him toward boats until a familiar voice called his name.

“Damianos!”

He looked up to see Fynn riding toward him on his mare. The both looked worse for wear, but Fynn wasn’t as singed as Damen expected him to be for having been in the palace.

“Laurent is on a boat,” Fynn explained. “With the child. He would not allow us to leave without—Damen?”

Damen had fallen to his knees without realizing it, his body no longer capable of standing up. Hearing Laurent was safe was all he needed to hear. Fynn leapt from his horse and moved to him, hooking an arm around him to help him to his feet.

“Laurent?” Damen asked.

“He’s safe,” Fynn assured him. “Come, Damianos, let’s get you up on the Eleanor and I’ll take you to him. He won’t leave without you.”

Eleanor was thankfully trained to be around boats and the chaos of the docks, and when Fynn tied his shirt around her eyes she calmed further, even with Damen slung over her back.

While everyone else was concerned with escaping the palace, Fynn had decided to go after the horses once Nikandros has informed him both kings had already escaped. It probably wasn’t the best choice, but he wanted Laurent to at least have comfort in knowing his horses were safe.

Ven, Bavar, and Nikri were in the boat, blindfolded. They were nervous, dancing on their hooves as they were held by attendants, but they were safe.

Nikandros met them first, and he helped Fynn moved Damen from Eleanor’s back.

“Laurent?”

“He’s here,” Nik assured him. “With that damned child. What were you doing going after—“

“Jokaste is dead,” Damen rasped. “We found her."

* * *

Jord risked his head with the way he handled Laurent. The young king would /not/ cooperate the moment he looked over his shoulder and noticed Damen had not caught up as he promised. He absolutely refused to board the ship, refused to leave where his feet were rooted, instantly sick with worry. He should have looked back. He should /go/ back.

Jord stopped him the moment he saw Laurent try to hand off the child to a stricken Lucien. In an instant, he risked execution by scooping his king right up and /dragging/ him on board. Laurent, snake that he could be, went into a fit and, if he had access to his arms, he probably would have stabbed Jord, called his execution then and there.

“Get him in the hold! To safety!” Jord ordered, passing Laurent to his own guard. He was nearly louder than Cosmas with how angry he was, hissing and spitting as he was dragged under the ship and into hold. It was ultimately /Nikandros/ who had to get him down there, and by that point, Laurent was exhausted enough to sit, far back in the ship, still holding Cosmas to his chest.

“Grab his physician,” Nikandros ordered, wiping Laurents face of ash. “Where is Damianos?”

“Following,” Laurent argued. “He was following me. He was— the fire—“

“Stay here,” Nikandros told Laurent, casting one look at the infant before rushing out, back into the chaos. The hold of the wooden boat only muffled it.

Cosmas had stopped crying.

There was almost a continuous shout of “Fire!” above, and it almost seemed to be snowing in the entry to the little hold Laurent was stashed in, but he knew it was ash. It was all over him. All over Cosmas.

He couldn’t just sit here.

“Dump barrels,” Laurent ordered the moment he was back on deck, assuming his role as King and offering up some semblance of order to all of this. Laurent had never been on a ship in his life. “Make canvases out of those blankets! Get everyone /under/ something!” He tucked Cosmas into his blanket, made sure he was safe. “Send that boat - /do not/ separate families!”

He managed it, and even if someone who heard is orders could not tell who he was, his voice was commanding enough to have them listen.

“This ship /does not/ leave until Damianos is on board!”

He sent four ships while he was waiting, noticed on one the familiar mounts and nearly vomited with relief then and there. Ash and dust were thick, and if the island off Akielos was close, Laurent could not tell by how much. He did not know where he was sending these people or their horses to, but he had to believe the shipmasters did.

“Make room!” Laurent yelled at the Akielons crowding the shipway, most likely eager to jump and start swimming if Laurent did not give the okay for them to sail. “Move to the— Damen!”

He made him out as he was brought on the boat alongside—

“Fynn!”

Yes, Laurent could have cried.

He nearly careened into Damen only stopping from toppling them both when he remembered the infant still in his arms. Cosmas was back to sniffling, but had not the energy to cry any longer. Laurent could imagine that would not stay that way. He threw one arm around Damen, so relieved to see him amidst a thousand other emotions.

“I told you not to fall far behind,” he demanded of Damen, tucked right into his neck, not even able to take in all that had happened to them just yet.

“Get them both to the hold,” Jord ordered. “We’re leaving."

* * *

Damen was hollow-eyed as he stared at Nikandros. Nikandros was one of the only living people who had been with him through his entire relationship with Jokaste. Damen did love love her anymore, of course—she was something closer to an unruly family member at this point—but not she was nothing. She was dead. He would never see her again, she would never insult him again, never hand over Cosmas and pretend she disliked it.

He didn’t have time to mourn before Laurent as crashing into him, Cosmas still safe in his arms. Damen put his arms around Laurent, kissing his ashy temple and closing his eyes. Laurent had survived. Cosmas had survived. Damen was incredibly thankful for that.

“Nikandros—“ Damen began, but Nik put up a hand.

“Exalted, you have saved enough lives by giving the palace an early warning. Laurent sent four ships to Isthima already, it is time for us to leave now. You must rest, be a /king/.”

He looked up over Laurent’s head to see Ios aflame. The palace was nothing but blackened rock, shadowed by flame. People stood on the beaches and Damen could see their mouths stretched in screams he couldn’t hear. He held Laurent tighter.

He had to be strong, for his people, and for Laurent, who had never experienced anything like this before. Damen hadn’t either, but he’d at least known what an earthquake felt like before an hour ago.

Once they made it to the hold, Paschal was already there, looking just as shocked as they were. He held out his hands for Cosmas, knowing full well that neither king would allow himself to be looked at before the child.

Damen put an arm around Laurent, resting his cheek against his head. He wanted to cry, to mourn, to be relieved that Laurent was all right but…instead he felt nothing. Just pressure from all sides, like his emotions were warring and unable to declare a winner.

He had no idea what he could possibly say to help anyone.


	18. Chapter 18

There was no silence, but they seemed to get the closest thing to it beneath the ship where they had been left to privacy, save for Paschal. No one knew what to say, how to address any of this. They spoke in gestures only. Even Cosmas’ wailing had died down to soft whispers.

Laurent rested his aching head on Damen’s shoulder, held one of Damen’s hands between both of his own, kissing his knuckles, not at all perturbed by the blood and muck there. After what they’d seen, what they’d just witnessed, it was nothing.

There was no telling yet how many they’d left behind, how many they’d lost. The last Laurent had seen through the ash, men and women alike had begun to jump into the water, had tried to swim after the boats, to Isthima, anywhere but their burning home.

Ios.

Ios was burning. There was little hope for it as it was. Laurent had never even gotten to know it, and now it was all ablaze, dilapidated. It would be littered with stone, with ash, with the bodies of their people. /Their/ people. In their first few days together, in the first moments of their union, they’d lost hundreds - at the very least. Veretians who had come to Ios to rejoice in the splendour of the union, to experience Ios for their first time, it be among the first who would be joined for the country.

Shaken as he was, Laurent tried to be there for Damen, tried to be strong for him, but his shaking hands gave him away. His heart was still racing in his chest, and he was practically bowed over Damen’s hand in prayer.

“He is healthy,” Paschal announced quietly, hesitating on who he should hand the baby back to. Neither of its parents were here, both having found themselves in the same fate.

Laurent swiped at his eyes, leaving another smear of black as he took an uneasy breath. He wanted crying - he was much to deep in shock to do that - but he was so very unnerved.

“I will take him,” Laurent murmured, outstretching his shaking hands to the infant. “See to Damianos. Please.” For his own physician could not. Laurent did not know if Leopold was on another ship, or if he had not made it out of Ios at all.

Laurent wondered who else might not have made it.

Above deck, there was still crying, screaming, and the storm had not yet dissipated. The sea was rough, even in the short distance from Ios to Isthima, and Laurent found himself even more nauseous than he had been before.

It had rocked Cosmas straight to sleep.

* * *

Jokaste could at least smile down from the afterlife with the knowledge that her son was healthy. Damen noticed Laurent’s shaking hands when he reached out for Cosmas and thought to step forward, but he didn’t. Even Damen was too tired to fight—he was worse off than Laurent and he knew it.

“Fix only what you must,” Damen instructed. “We need to ration supplies.”

“I will heal what needs healed,” Paschal replied. “I will not add a king with an infection on top of this…attack from the gods.”

Damen wasn’t used to ships, but his sickness was not as bad as Laurent’s seemed to be. Cosmas drifted to sleep, but Laurent looked like he might vomit as Paschal cleaned Damen’s wounds. It was hard to get much done in a swaying boat, especially because Damen didn’t like to stand still.

Finally he just waved Paschal off. “See to Laurent,” he instructed, stepping over to his betrothed and offering his arms for Cosmas.

“Let Paschal see you,” Damen said softly, still unable to address what had happened. “I will care for him, and I’ll use one of the trunks as a crib. He will be safe.” he tried to smile but it didn't really work. “Then I’ll help /you/ feel safe. I’m right here."

* * *

Safe.

That would be easier said than done.

Laurent watched what he could of Pashcal tending to Damen, trying to see which wounds were deemed problematic by the physician, and which ones would heal on their own. Laurent did his best to memorise them so that he might help keep up with their care, but he missed a few small treatments when he had to close his eyes in an attempt not to be sick, he was certain.

An 'attack of the gods’, Paschal had said. That idea certainly did not make Laurent feel any better. It had very much felt like that. The earth shaking so violently, literal fire raining from the sky. Laurent wondered if it could reach them out here, or if the ‘attack’ was centered on Ios alone.

He opened his eyes again, watched as Paschal cleaned what he could of Damen’s back, his shoulders, black ash smeared away to Damen’s olive skin, the white of his scars, the red of what would be new ones. And those were just the physical. Through that same ash and dust, Laurent could see Damen’s eyes, the hollowed emptiness there. He was staring so perfectly straight on, and where Laurent liked to think he knew what every expression meant, knew what every little twitch and glance represented, he couldn’t read anything on him now.

Between the two of them, Laurent and Damen had lost a /lot/, but Damen had just lost his home. Yes, it could be rebuilt. They would go back when then could, would dig in the dirt, the rubble, would find what they could of it, but it was an overwhelming amount of damage, of destruction. History had been shaken from its very foundation, Damen’s childhood, his home that they did not explore enough before…this.

Laurent opened his eyes again - uncertain of when he had closed them - and saw those hollowed eyes now on him, arms outstretched. It took Laurent a moment to figure out what he was asking for.

And when he figured it out, he hesitated. He didn’t know why, was still very torn about the infant in his arms even being there, but…Laurent couldn’t leave Cosmas behind. He couldn’t have done that.

He couldn’t not even process who he had left behind, and one very important person came to mind.

That was it.

Poised and in control as he was, Laurent could not fight seasickness. He’d certainly /tried/, and it showed in every bit of his expression. He had tried his damnedest to hold it back, but with everything? He had seen a lot in his time, but this was all very new, and on top of that, he was /swaying/, non-stop, quite erratically.

He just managed to hand over Cosmas in time.

“Auguste was the same on ships,” Paschal noted somberly, his own attempt at levity, as he moved over to Laurent and touched his back, impressed that Laurent had the wherewithal to actually aim for one of the buckets in the cargo pile. He had clearly scoped it out prior.

“Take a moment,” Paschal murmured, stepping away. Laurent was not bad off. It seemed Damen had taken the brunt of it all. He had a few burns on him, cuts and scraps that would heal. His feet were burned, but Paschal knew he probably had not processed that yet. The wraps about them had saved him from the most of it, it seemed, but they were now singed black, smeared red. He would be fine with a bit of salve…once Pashcal had the time to make it. Until then, while Laurent rested his head on the edge of a bucket, Paschal unwrapped and washed his feet, which any other time would have been comedically white compared to the rest of his soot-and-dust covered body.

* * *

Damen took Cosmas, but was so tired he couldn’t even find it in himself to worry as much as he normally did on the rare occasion Laurent fell ill. HIs heart was already clenched, so he couldn’t find any reaction in himself. He was still too numb, Even Cosmas’s sleeping face didn’t warm him the way it usually did.

The truth was that they weren’t safe at all. Damen had thought they were safe and now his palace was a pile of rubble, his home completely destroyed. In a matter of hours Akielos had gone from a shining power to a wounded country—and he had no idea how far the damage reached. Ios as a whole was destroyed.

So Damen just sat on the floor, his battered body aching and stinging all over. There was no comfort in sitting, but it moved the pain from the scorched soles of his feet to his ass, which was fine with him. Cosmas made noises in his sleep, and Damen suddenly thought about how he would be fed.

“Is there a mother on board?” Damen asked Paschal. “Jokaste still fed him from her breast.”

Paschal shook his head. “I’m not sure. But I’ll find some mash—it may be time he learns to eat solid food.”

So much had changed in an instant.

“Is there anything you can do for Laurent?” Damen then asked, watching as Laurent still hunched over the buckets. “We have a long sail ahead.” They had hours yet, and then they would have to unload the boats and send them back for survivors. He wished there was a way to warn those in Isthima that they were coming and to ready their boats to add to the fleet.

There was a knock at the door, and NIkandros appeared, followed closely by Fynn. Both men looked singed and ash-covered, with similar looks of grief.

“Laurent,” Fynn breathed, rushing over to Laurent and kneeling by his side. “You should lie on your back—it will help. Lie as flat as you can and watch me, okay? Don’t look anywhere else.” Everyone was too tired to care about the suggestion of that command.

Nikandros sat with Damen and put an arm around him, trying to offer some kind of support, but he was grieving too. Their home was gone. Now what?

* * *

Laurent would be fine, and he did insist upon it, waving Paschal off with a surprisingly graceful effort, his wrist draped at a noble angle and all. He had already stopped the initial vomiting, but the nausea was quite insistent. What Fynn encouraged certainly helped.

Laurent only noticed it was Fynn who he had instructed it when he was staring up at him, watching what seemed to be the one still thing in the room. Fynn was used to sailing, clearly had his bearings better than any king would.

But Laurent’s eyes roamed, constantly looking over to check on Damen, to check on Cosmas. Nikandros, too. He had never seen such a grave disposition on Nikandros’ face, and he had long since had to accept the idea of Damen marrying Laurent.

He had successfully followed /half/ of the order.

He reached his arm above his head and placed as reassuring a hand he could atop Damen’s knee. It was awkward, but Laurent wanted to be there for him. So much so that Laurent followed instruction for all of three minutes before he was pushing up off the floor and joining in to sit at Damen’s other side, head rested on his shoulder. His stomach rocked about, but he focused on Fynn all the same, and it was mostly in attempt to right his vision and therefore his brain, but more so in a silent ask for help.

What was Laurent to do about all of this? What could he possibly do to help, to make this right? To even /try/?

He certainly couldn’t lie on the floor away from Damen and hope for that to fix it.

“You two made it out well?” Laurent asked Fynn first, and then his eyes wandered again to Nikandros, addressing the both of them. “Do you need Paschal to—“

“We do not,” Nikandos replied gruffly, but with no intention for it to be rude. Laurent turned his eyes back to Fynn, repeating the question silently to him.

* * *

Damen sat silently, unable to speak. He couldn’t find any words to say. He wanted to be a strong king, a strong promised husband, a good friend, a caregiver to Cosmas. But he could find nothing within him to respond to any of what was asked of him. He just couldn’t process that his home was gone. Wiped from the map, just like that. And the only enemy to be angry at was the ground.

“We’re not injured,” Fynn clarified. “Though I did narrowly avoid a large rock on my way to the stables. I met Nikandros at the beach and we helped to gather citizens into boats. We were safe from the worst of it."

Damen rested his head against Laurent’s, swallowing down his pain.

“You should be lying on the floor,” Damen murmured, but he didn’t move his head. He couldn’t imagine the chaos that would meet them when they left the boat, how much there would be for them to do. He could only home that Tiberius the Kyros was still as forward thinking as he had been in Damen’s youth

“I’m going to find you some clothes,” Nikandros announced. “You cannot arrive at Isthima in rags.”

“Don’t take anything from anyone,” Damen warned. “They’ve lost enough today.”

“I’ll find you both something to drink,” Fynn offered. “And I believe Paschal is fetching something for the child as we speak.”

Damen closed his eyes, once more unable to respond.

* * *

“Thank you for saving our horses,” Laurent managed out between thick swallows, genuine and honest. What Fynn had done meant the world to him. Ven would likely be the only surviving gift Laurent had from Damen aside from their cuffs, and that was one thing he needed now. Whatever good news they could find.

They were out of their depth on all of this, he and Damen both. Laurent’s age would have nothing to do with his inexperience with what came after all of this. It was more destructive than war, messier than it as well. An entire city, gone in the blink of an eye. All of Ios lost. Veretian bodies would have to be taken back to Vere, would have to be reported there, letters would need to be sent, families compensated. But that number would still be so small compared to that which Akielos had lost.

Damen did not deserve this.

He’d lost so much more than Laurent, and he did not think the idea of gaining any of Vere would placate Damen in the least right now. Laurent had a home to return to, had all of his past, his belongings, his childhood, miles and miles away from where all of this had just happened. Damen had…nothing. Nothing that he valued.

Laurent could not explain how grateful he was that Nikandros had made it out alive. For Damen’s sake.

In the absence of everyone, Laurent gave his full attention to Damen, moving to hold him as close as he dared with the scrapes and scuffs between them. There weren’t any words for this, nothing that could fix it in the slightest.but he wanted to be there for him. He needed something in this - /they/ needed something in this.

But all Laurent could manage out was diplomacy, a plan, something concrete they could discuss.

“We will unload the ships, send them back immediately for others,” Laurent murmured, “We will find shelter, make sure the women and the children are safe. We will…move on from there."

* * *

When they were finally alone, Damen realized how much he /hurt/. HIs skin was peeling from the scorching heat of the flames, and he could feel bruises forming all over where he had fallen. His feet were burned and swollen from the sharp rocks and hard ground, and his back hurt from cuts and fire. but the emotional pain was just as blunt, just as debilitating. 

“Okay,” he said softly. His gaze hadn’t left the door, just staring. Gather the women and children, find shelter. Rescue more survivors. Yes. All of that sounded reasonable. 

Cosmas shifted in his arms, unaware his mother was dead. Unaware his home was gone and that his clothes were burned. He was swaddled in a simple cloth and nothing more. Damen had lost the sleeve he had taken from Jokaste in hopes of giving him a familiar scent. 

Damen tore his eyes from the door and took a moment to look over Laurent. He was wounded, but mostly with cuts and scrapes. He’d avoided the burns for the most part in his haste to protect Cosmas. 

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Damen said after a long moment. “I’m sorry if I don’t seem grateful. I am. For you and for Cosmas. And I am glad we saved him together so I did not have to lose sight of you until the end."

* * *

“I don’t suspect gratitude is necessary,” Laurent muttered in response, his own eyes affixed to the entrance of the hold, distracted by his anticipating the return of any one of their companions. “But I know the feeling.”

Laurent was just as grateful Damen had made it out of there, could not imagine a world where he hadn’t. Laurent knew the pain of his world not coming back to him, knew the other side of that coin too well. He had something to compare it to, knew the exact gratitude when he felt it, the thrill and the desire to cry as if Damen had not returned at all when he showed up on the boat, but it hardly felt like the time to jump for joy about it. Ios as a whole would not be climbing the next gangplank.

He did cast his eyes to Cosmas then, still asleep in Damen’s arms, and yes, the logical side of Laurent’s brain questions this decision. Not to let the baby /live/, but he could have so easily handed it off to someone on another ship, could have easily blended in as /anyone/ so that no one new just who the dust-covered baby was. He could have given this child a different life, one better for him had he done that, but…Laurent couldn’t part from Cosmas. He couldn’t. His rare-sighted emotional brain took over, and he could not leave Ios knowing this infant was not /safe/.

He resented his actions as much as he stood by them.

Paschal arrived a few moments later with an armful of buckets with bowls precariously stacked atop them. Water sloshed over the side of one, and he instantly apologized that it was not for drinking. He handed them both rags to wash themselves up, undoubtedly at Nikandros’ behest. Paschal also carried a small bowl of what looked like watered-down porridge, but even that he explained to be for the burns, that it was the best he could do until they arrived in Isthsima. They could only assume Isthima would be willing to help a Veretian physician at their king’s will.

Nikandros entered next, leading in a young woman by her hand. She looked battered, had clearly been sobbing, and when she prostrated herself before the kings, greeted them in kind, her voice was ruined, undoubtedly from screaming. She was absolutely beside herself, trying to hold back tears as Nikandros helped her back up.

Laurent nearly ordered her gone in an instant. She had done nothing wrong but merely arrived to them beautiful and blonde, and Laurent knew that to be the last thing Damen needed right now, but Nikandros spoke before he could.

“She has lost her child,” Nikandros explained, helping the woman up who was, now that Laurent could see it, doing a remarkable job of holding herself together. “She has offered to feed the child, should you desire it."

* * *

Damen’s emotion did twinge when he saw the woman. She looked like she had seen something worse than death, confirmed by Nikandros only a moment later. She had lost her child. His father had spoken of the way his mother had been a ghost in the halls after several failed tries at having children with him, and Damen remembered the stories well. His father had warned him of the toll of childbearing, and the horrific pain of losing a child who had never been born. This woman had probably seen her child crushed by rock or burned by fire.

“Did you offer or did he make you?” Damen asked in informal Akielon - he hadn’t detected the noble dialect in her greeting, but she was too beautiful to be someone who did not associate with the upper class.

Nikandros narrowed his eyes, but didn’t speak out of turn in front of a stranger.

Tears leaked from the woman’s eyes and she shook her head. “I saw His Majesty carry a child onto the ship. I thought perhaps he had found my daughter and asked His Excellency if I may look to see if it was her, but have since been told the child is a son.”

“Yes,” Damen said. “His mother did not survive.”

Nikandros looked away.

The woman bit her lip as more tears spilled. “I wish to serve the king,” she said, her voice ragged. “It would be my honor to care for a child who is important to him.”

Damen swallowed hard, his throat sticking in the process. He knew Cosmas needed food, but he feared the woman would take him as her own, replacing the child she had lost.

He nodded once. “Nikandros, see that they are given privacy. I want whatever guards we have—Veretian or Akielon—to protect them.”

Nikandros held his gaze, showing that he understood the true meaning. /Cosmas/ was to be protected from threats, whether it be the woman or otherwise. Damen reluctantly handed Cosmas to the woman, who cried softly as she stroked his round cheeks with her finger. Damen was beginning to feel ill.

* * *

Laurent watched her warily - the logical mind where Damen’s seemed the emotional. He had every right to be, of course, but Laurent needed to gather his bearing, needed to clear his head, and focus on anything that was not his empathy. So he watched the woman while Damen questioned her, made sure her expressions matched with her answers, made sure there was no tells that she might try to take Cosmas.

It seemed, even amidst all the chaos, Damen was still in that thinking as well.

But even before she was led away with the baby, Laurent knew she could be trusted. A woman who, even at her absolute worst, could summon up the courage to present herself before her king, could call a Veretian ‘His Excellency’ despite Akielon loyalty, had enough respect for her king to not attempt to steal a child he was responsible for. Even the way she bowed, caught Laurent’s eye as if asking for permission.

“She will not harm him,” Laurent murmured in hopeful reassurance to Damen, taking his now empty hands so he could not focus on any sort of idea of losing the child. Laurent had wished Cosmas had been kept closer, but that logical brain in him did not mind the distance. It also gave him more grounds to focus on Damen without the chid there, and Laurent could push through what ailed him to focus on that.

“I hope to never be on a ship again,” Laurent mumbled, taking up one of the rags Paschal had left for them and dipping it into the water. He thought of drinking some of it just to rinse out his mouth, but the small tonic Paschal hd given him earlier had seemed to help with the vomit taste from earlier. Laurent could not be so sure it would not happen again, but he remained unwavering for the time being.

“Turn to me,” he instructed of Damen, so that he might swipe away the dirt that Paschal left from his earlier tending. “Let us make you presentable, yes?”

* * *

Damen put out a hand to stop Laurent from cleaning him. His touch was soft, a quiet warning.

“I don’t think I should step from this ship clean and tidy while my people are suffering,” Damen said. “They may have to wait days for a bath, and here we are using water to clean my face.” That woman needed a bath—/Cosmas/ needed a bath before he did. He’d been woken from silk sheets and perfumes, others had woken to their houses already destroyed, their families crushed and dying.

He’d made it out with the people he loved most. He’d only lost one person, and she should have been his enemy.

“Our people,” he corrected after a moment. “Veretian and Akielon.”

He could not imagine any other country would attack them in such a state, but Vask took advantage of opportunities no matter the cause. He could easily see them encroaching on the mountain border while everyone focused on the southern part of the country.

“We’ll be to Isthima soon,” Damen murmured in an attempt to be reassuring. He couldn’t even remember what he normally did with Laurent during alone time. His whole body seemed to have shut off, his mind disconnected from his flesh.

It felt like he could have done something to prevent this. To save lives.

“If I may,” Paschal said quietly, “Sometimes the people want to see their king as though he has risen from the ashes. If you are concerned about being too pristine—your burns and cuts will not be fading anytime soon.”

"Tend to Laurent’s feet,” Damen said, looking over to him with concern welling in his eyes. “He should be helped first.”

Paschal looked at Laurent, suddenly uneasy. “I already have, Exalted,” he replied evenly.

Damen blinked. “Yes. Of course. Then what is there that you need to see to?"

* * *

“/You/, Damen,” Laurent replied for Pashcal, having to take a stand where he knew the physician could not. It was a stand Leopold would have taken were he here to deal with Damen. Laurent had to wonder where he was now. “He needs to end to you, to /us/. They need to recognize us when we arrive, need - as Paschal said - something to look up to you.”

He did not allow himself to be pushed away then. He took Damen’s arm and started wiping through the grime. There was no way he would slough enough off Damen to really make a difference, but if they used what time they had to only focus on him, Laurent could get somewhere. Laurent could be the symbol Damen wanted, the leveling piece. Even if Laurent did wash himself of dirt and ash, blood and rock, he would be mottled with the purple and yellows of bruises.

But Laurent did not need to shine. By sheer number alone, there would be very few Veretians on Isthima, and that was before the odds of who made it out, who was still waiting on the beach at Ios.

Or who had made it out of those work camps...

“You cannot be this for them,” Laurent explained, and he did not mean to sound coarse, but he thought himself right, and most of the edge in his tone was an attempt at keeping his mouth busy so as to not allow vomit out. “You have to be /hope/ for them, Damianos. Even if you have none.”

Damen was not the king Laurent was. Laurent was cold, a tyrant, aloof and demanding. Damen was empathetic, kind, he listened to his people and they respected him for it. He was a /good/ king, had been trained for it and had /listened/. He loved his people, his country, and having it left it behind could not be what stopped that. Laurent would not allow it.

So he swiped the cloth over Damen’s face, wrung it out, and did it again. Paschal cringed at the idea of his King’s hand in such dirty water, but Laurent did not seem to mind in the slightest as he forged ahead.

“You can be this here, Damianos,” Laurent said a little more quietly, stopping his cleaning for a moment to just hold Damen’s face. “You can be this when we are alone. I will do /whatever/ I can for you, and together, we will…process this, but you /can not/ be this in front of them. Neither of us can.”

They were not afforded the right to process, to mourn. Not as kings.

“What will we say?” Laurent asked, swallowing down what last bit of emotion he had for this. It made his as nauseous as the sea, and even now, his eyes gave him away. It was to the point where this conversation was clearly a front, clearly how Laurent always handled things. How he would continue to handle things despite the loss of…so much. “What will they need to hear?”

And for once, Laurent was asking because he genuinely did not know.

* * *

“I won’t,” Damen choked out. Of course he wouldn’t be like this in front of the people. he knew he had to be a king, but right now he was in private company with the man he loved most in he world. A man who could have died, whose first thought had been to save the child he claimed to want gone.

He closed his eyes when Laurent held his face, allowing tears to spill and hoping they were hidden in the grimy water already on his face. Damen was no a man who broke down under pressure, and that wouldn’t happen now, but he had foolishly hoped their wedding would not be marred by any kind of ill omen. He didn’t know how much worse it could get.

“They need to know we survived,” Damen found himself saying. “I will tell them of our escape, and then speak to Tiberius to discuss the state of things here—what kind of supplies we have. We will begin making camps for survivors and distributing food and water.”

Damen had a practice run already with the prior quakes. He could learn from that, correct his mistakes. Perhaps the first quakes had been a blessing.

“They need to know we are doing /something/,” Damen said quietly. “I will not be a king who presides. I want to be there in the thick of it, helping."

* * *

Laurent was quick and gentle to swipe at the tears, not thinking he would be able to stand to see Damen cry now. Paschal was still here, and Laurent knew Damen wouldn’t want /him/ to say that, so Laurent stayed vigilant on the tears while Damen came up with a plan. Laurent had never been so out of his depth on a plan, and he was almost grateful Damen had been through something like this before so they had some foundation of an idea here. Laurent could fill in where Damen might not be able to.

“Then we will be out there,” Laurent agreed, having no issue with getting out there and working with the men to erect tents, find supplies, escort and assist as possible. He had never made himself so available on a battle field, but he was not unwilling. Yes, it could be ab excellent time for someone to take advantage of a solo, unliked king and do way with him, but Laurent had to believe breaking this union any further would come second to survival.

Paschal had called it an ‘act of the gods.’

Laurent wondered what they might be so vehemently responding to.

He sat in silence for a moment, his own eyes focused on Damen, but they had clouded over a bit as nausea took him again. He closed them, swallowed hard, and after a long moment, went back to cleaning Damen up, went back to uncovering cut after cut, dark bruise after dark bruise. He stayed quiet, all his focus on Damen while his mind tried to run around all of what was before them. He would not even think past Isthima, and he tried to keep his brain from what they had just suffered in Ios—

But Laurent had gone without asking for too long.

“Damen,” he muttered, swiping now at Damen’s thigh, his eyes averted. “Where are the work camps?"

* * *

Damen would be helpless without Laurent. He couldn’t imagine facing such hardship without him. Laurent centered him, reminded him that emotion wasn’t always the best way to solve problems. They had to be pragmatic and look at this the way kings would, or perhaps gods. They couldn’t focus on individuals like Jokaste who had died, they needed to focus on the living and how best to care for all of them.

He knew what Laurent was truly asking about the work camps, and he had a feeling Korus had not survived If he had been put to work among the rock and limestone, he was probably one of the first to be crushed by it.

“There are several,” said Damen. "One to the southwest of the palace, by the shipyards. Another further north, and a mining camp near Vask.”

He had no idea which one Korus had been sent to, but they couldn’t have made it far. Nikandros had probably put him in the shipyards just so that guards would know what he had done and be able to keep a stricter eye on him.

“We can’t assume anything,” Damen said softly, stilling Laurent’s hand with his own. He gave it a squeeze. “But we will look for him when we can. Discreetly.”

He wasn’t about to have Laurent sniffing around for the boy who tried to kill him.

* * *

They wouldn’t have made it far - certainly not to Vask. It had been only hours since they had last seen Korus - not long enough to travel as far from the destruction as Laurent would have liked.

“When we can,” he agreed with Damen, clearing his throat and going back to cleaning him up. “When we’ve taken care of Isthima…of the people there, I would like to look for him, yes.” But, like Damen’s worrying, it would have to be second to the problem at hand. Laurent had to accept that. Loss was nothing new to him.

“How shall we handle Cosmas upon arrival?” Laurent asked next, as planning seemed to be doing them both good. It kept their minds focused. “There will be mayhem upon our arrival to Isthima. He should be kept away from it for as long as possible.” But they were short on men, on guards and Kyroi and the like. They would need all the hands they had to work among the people, to help where they could. “Neither of us will be able to work and hold him. We should have an option for his safekeeping. Someone we can trust.”

And Laurent realized just how few of those people they had in their lives - even fewer here.

“Perhaps Paschal in the early hours. Your men have enough knowledge of field medicine to help those in need.” Laurent had ruined both rags by now, and was not so sure the water was helping with Damen’s skin at all. “We could have someone run supplies to him to create his salves from someplace safe, see to those most injured. But we will have t owned men back on the boats…”

They would be relying so heavily upon Isthima upon their arrival.

* * *

“Isthima is not inept,” Damen said. “They are a province built on ship trade. Tiberius is a Kyros most skilled at planning and organizing—we are in better hands there than anywhere else in Akielos.” He wasn’t so sure that was true, but he wanted Laurent to feel confident in something.

In reality, it had been well over two years since he’d last seen or spoken to Tiberius. Back then he had merely been poised for the position of Kyros, a fire-blooded hotshot with a sharp mind and dazzling smile.

Damen frowned, realizing that the last time he’d seen Tiberius, they’d slept together. He hoped that wouldn’t complicate things, though he doubted Tiberius would be thinking about /that/ during a time like this.

“They have stores on the island in case the ports freeze in winter,” Damend reassured him. “I’m sure there will be enough to feed everyone.” Maybe. “And earthquakes do not affect crops fields so much, so what we’ve planted will not have been affected too greatly.”

He had to hope so anyway.

Damen swallowed hard, finally tipping his head up to press a kiss to Laurent’s ashy forehead. He tasted like dust, and ash coated Damen’s lips even as chapped as they were. He realized he hadn’t bothred to properly tend to Laurent.

“Paschal, we will handle ourselves,” Damen said. “Please tend to the woman caring for Cosmas. And if you could find out her name, I would be grateful.”

Paschal looked like he very much wanted to argue. He actually stood there frozen for several moments, silently debating. “I will be just outside,” he said, leaving them once more.

Damen pulled Laurent into his lap the moment Paschal was gone, holding him tight. “I just want to hold you for awhile,” his whispered, his voice weak. “To make sure you’re really here."

* * *

Laurent had not realised how bad he wanted this until it had been presented to him. The moment Damen’s arms were around him, solid and warm and safe, Laurent moved right into them, pressed himself in any way he could to Damen. He shifted in Damen’s lap to face him, wrapped his legs around Damen’s waist in a way that might have been suggestive in any other situation, but Laurent merely had done it to be /close/. He wrapped his arms around Damen, hid his face in Damen’s shoulder.

He'd needed this as much as Damen did.

Laurent thought he’d lost Damen in Ios more than once, and those final moments when Damen could not be made out in the ash and smoke and flame had almost been unbearable. Had he a weapon, he would have undoubtedly dispatched Jord for his treason in holding his king hostage on a rescue boat.

There had been so many moments where they could have lost each other, and Laurent had been - and still was - genuinely so frightened. He had never experienced /anything/ like what had just happened in Ios, and to think that he might live through it just to be without Damen? He couldn’t bear the thought.

Laurent had not even taken the time to think about their wedding - to think about the union they’d almost lost again.

With his eyes shut tight, his body entirely focused on having Damen close, Laurent went quiet for a long moment. He could play it off as his seasickness if it made Damen uncomfortable, but he genuinely was just so, /so/ grateful to have Damen here with him. If they had merely made it on separate boats, Laurent could not be so sure how he would have responded.

And when his hold loosened, it was just to something more comfortable, something more lax and less alarming.

He returned the kiss to Damen in that moment, placing his lips on Damen’s shoulder, followed by another only slightly higher.

“You fell too far behind,” Laurent whispered suddenly, soft and hoarse, and for that brief moment, Laurent’s worry was tangible. They were free of watchful eyes; it could be. “I thought we’d left you behind, lost you to—“ Laurent waved his hand noncommittally behind Damen’s back to no one. It was best not it bring it up.

“Nikandros never would have forgiven me.”

Laurent had never seen Nikandros so frightened - and he knew that’s exactly what that face had been. He’d gotten close enough to Laurent to spit on him, so Laurent had sussed out his expression easily enough.

“I never would have forgiven myself.”

* * *

Damen buried his nose in Laurent’s hair, ignoring the pain of pulling burns and bruises as he held Laurent close. He didn’t allow so much as a breath of space between them. Holding Cosmas had been a nice reminder of the fragility of life, but it was nothing like holding Laurent, the man he had promised his life to, had chosen to be by his side forever. They weren’t yet married, but in the eyes of the gods, they were unified the second Damen had taken him on the beach. In some Akielon circles, that alone was enough to certify their union.

“Shh,” he soothed, thumbing at the nape of Laurent’s neck. “I was right behind you. I would have thrown off any rock and quenched every fire that tried to keep me from you. You are just too fast.” He allowed himself a small smile this time, nuzzling into his neck and holding him closer.

“I would have forgiven you, I hope you know that,” Damen said quietly. “You had to get Cosmas to safety, and I asked you to go. It is not your fault I’m slow.”

Damen rested his head against Laurent’s, finding strength in his hold. Laurent was strong. He would have come out of this victorious, with all of Akielos and Vere behind him. He was simply too good of a man to fail.

“I’m right here,” he reminded him. “For now we’re safe, and whatever happens, we can rebuild it. And now…now we can rebuild Ios as a testament to our union, yes? Veretians and Akielons alike can be part of the rebuilding process.”

He didn’t want Laurent to focus on the present—he seemed to calm down when they could think ahead.

There was commotion above, and Damen figured they had caught sight of Isthima. It would still be some time yet before they docked, but he was grateful anyway. He wasn’t sure what they woudl have done if they did not have an island to flee to.

And island he hoped had not also been destroyed.

* * *

Rebuilding Ios seemed like an impossible task, and they had not even seen the final damage of it. The idea was lovely, making it, like Marlas, something of both Akielon and Vereian inspiration, but it all seemed like such a distant possibility now that Laurent simply could not imagine it. He could not picture anything past the collapsing limestone, the bodies littering the ground, Jokaste still in her cell…

But he would not let Damen know his thoughts were like that.

So he changed them, focused them on what they could do, how they could come back from this.

“I suppose some Veretian opulence could not hurt Ios,” Laurent murmured, already aware it would be more of a legacy situation than anything. Something to last long after them, somewhere for their people to mingle and share culture… They would need to transport soldiers, craftsman, would need to make a plan - Yes, a plan. The very idea of that made it all easier.

Being with Damen made it all easier.

He lifted his head at the sound of commotion, of gasping and sudden speaking, Laurent’s first thought being that perhaps Isthima itself was destroyed, but the weeping above sounded more relieved than of further stress and suffering. Laurent rested his head against Damen’s again, taking another moment to just breathe him in, feel him.

He smelled terrible, like the sky had, like the fog had. Laurent had never smelled anything like it, but didn’t know what in whatever had happened would unleash such a smell. They were all covered in it. Damen had at least been cleaned. He probably smelled better than Laurent.

Laurent was grateful they had at least made a few memories in Ios when they had the time.

He should have travelled sooner.

“You Majesties.”

Paschal had returned with Nikandros, with Cosmas. Laurent did not think to move, did not think either of them would care if they saw their kings like this, and Laurent could not make himself care if they saw this in the first place. These two people were in their circle, these two people they could trust.


	19. Chapter 19

When they docked at Isthima, Nikandros returned to the hold after some minutes with clothes from Tiberus. Fine silk chitons and sandals that Damen’s swollen feet hardly fit into, but he wore them anyway. The white silk was already dirty after just putting iton, but at least they looked presentable.

Iris, the woman who had offered to help with Cosmas, was positioned just behind Fynn in the procession off of the boat, with Laurent and Damen at the lead. Other boats from Ios were already unloading, and the scene was not as chaotic as Damen expected. There were hands at every needed point, calm from the people of Isthima as though they did this every day.

At the end of the dock stood Tiberus, and Damen actually stopped walking for a moment, shocked by the man who stood before them in a red chiton with gold embroidery. He was much taller than Damen remembered—as tall as Damen was now. His skin was not olive but pale, and coupled with his dark curls, he was a unification of north and south made only more poignant by his green eyes flecked with gold.

He was stunning—more so than when Damen had seen him last. And now he carried himself like a leader, a man of power and grace that rivaled his king.

“Exalted,” Tiberus greeted, dipping his head and dropping to a knee. Everyone behind him followed suite. “I do not have the words to convey my sympathies. I considered Ios my home as much as any Akielon. “But I was relieved to hear you and His Majesty had survived such a horrible event.”

“Thank you,” Damen said, squeezing Laurent’s hand. “We are both grateful that we had the chance to escape.”

Tiberius stood and showed them toward a tent that had been erected near the docks. he called for one a woman with long black hair. He whispered something to her and she headed off.

“I asked her to fetch food and drink, but don’t be mistaken," Tiberus said, “she is one of my most talenteed fighters and advisors.”

“You’ve grown,” Damen said, stupidly.

Tiberius laughed, a joyful sound in such a sorrowful time. “And you’ve gotten yourself engaged.” He dipped his head to Laurent. “Your Majesty. I wish we could have met under happier circumstances.”

Fynn took up Laurent’s open side, noting the way Tiberius was walking rather close to Damianos, like they were old friends. But Nikandros had already told him that Damen hadn’t seen the Kyros of Isthima in years—he hadn’t even seen him since his ascension to the role.

Now was not the time.

“I’ve seen the horses,” Fynn supplied, trying to distract Laurent. “They are nervous, but in good hands here. The stablehands were competent—I think it would be good for you to see Ven and Bavar later on this evening. It would do all of you good, I think."

* * *

Even in his new chiton, Laurent would be unrecognisable in the untimely darkness of the day. He had no crown, no Veretian laces, and with his yellow hair dirt-smeared and ashen, his skin tone darkened just the same, and his feet wrapped like a peasant, he probably would have been put to work immediately had he not arrived infield Damen.

Isthima carried many of the same aesthetics as Ios, but even just along the beach, Laurent could see influences of the border cities. He saw it in the people as well. The man who helped them off the boat had light eyes, light skin - Laurent could tell in the light of the man’s torch as they were ushered off onto the beach. He looked more of the North than Laurent did at that moment, but Laurent was a bit too distracted to think much else on that.

Laurent had never known to be grateful for /land/, but he could feel his very core stabilise once he was off that blasted ship. But that did not help with the nausea of processing all that had happened.

The people of Isthima were already in full response, and in what was already done, it was clear they had started well in advance, as if they had known this day was coming. All the erected tents, all the people out helping, the call nature of the inhabitants went right along with that. They had been prepping this well before the first ship from Ios had landed.

Laurent would venture to say they started shortly after Damen told Laurent he had to leave Arles.

Most comfortable and calm of all was Tiberius, Kyros of Isthima, and good friend of Damen’s it seemed. Laurent had not seen Damen so stupefied since he saw Laurent in a robe for the first time.

Laurent had never heard Damen talk of Tiberius.

But Laurent looked right past that has they walked. After a brief scan of those with and behind them, he turned to watch Akielons as they were escorted deeper up onto the beach, seen to, assisted as some collapsed, soothed as some sobbed on.

He caught Fynn as he turned his sights onward.

“I would love to have them close,” Laurent agreed, distracted, turning back to look at Cosmas in the woman’s arms, turning to look at Damen, and then back to Fynn.

“Thank you for saving them,” Laurent said again, noting that he and Fynn were walking as close as Tiberius and Damen were. “I hated leaving them behind. But I—“ A woman wailing cut Laurent off, but it was too far away for them to intervene.

“I cannot tell you how relieved I am you made it out, and I’m...I am sorry you were stuck in this.”

* * *

Damen was fascinated by Tiberius. He had suspected they would be in capable hands coming to Isthima, but it was as if Tiberius had known of this disaster in advance. He didn’t seem fazed by any of it with the way he carried himself, his curls perfectly settles and his smile wide and confident. Damen was momentarily taken from his grief because of the calm aura of the man beside him—a man who was nothing like the one he had bedded years ago. That Tiberius was cocky, though Damen did remember the way he’d flushed when—

“You’re staring,” Tiberius chuckled. “Surely my taking up the role of Kyros is not so unbelievable?”

“Tiberius,” Nikandros warned. “Damianos has been injured, as has His Majesty. That is enough of toeing the line.”

“Ah, Nikandros,” Tiberius said with a grin. “Overly protective of his virtue, as always.”

“Are you kidding?” Fynn said, shaking his head in response to Laurent. “I am glad I was here. If I had heard about this through some letter, I would have been worried sick about you. Coming to Ios was the best decision I could have made.”

A man was rushed by them on a stretcher, his body charred and bloody. Damen stopped walking for a moment, squeezing Laurent’s hand. He had to be strong. Damen cleared his throat.

“It seems you have a good handle on things here,” Damen said to Tiberius. “We plan to se—“

“Send back more boats?” Tiberius finished. “You said that already.”

Nikandros narrowed his eyes. “Tiberius—“

Tiberius waved him off. “Damianos, you need to rest. Take my tent. I know you won’t sleep, but at least wash up--His Majesty as well. Warm water will clear your head. In the meantime I’ll tend to your injured and get those boats ready to go back. Nothing will happen without your approval, of course."

* * *

Laurent smiled warmly at Fynn, for the moment feeling that same calm Damen had felt speaking with Tiberius. For a moment, thr world around them had drowned out and Laurent could /breathe/. He had Damen at his side, Fynn at the other, solid, cool ground at his burned feet—

And absolutely nothing else.

The man taken by them smelled in a way Laurent recognised from pyres burned after battles, but the man was still very much alive by the looks of it, by his groaning, by his clenching hand.

He went still alongside Damen, quiet, and it gave him just the silence to catch on to Tiberius and Damen actually speaking to one another, to hear their back and forth, however brief.

Laurent’s eyes rolled over to the Kyros of Isthima just as he was deterred by Nikandros. Laurent had thought all Kyroi to be like Nikandros, like Makedon - large, burly, hard angled men. Tiberius has certainly found himself into muscle, but Laurent could see he had been soft in his youth, beautiful.

Could they go /nowhere/ without his running into someone Damen had stuck his cock into?

“Paschal, you should help see to the injured,” Laurent told his physician, calling his own shots and moving forward with their plan. There was not much to build and prep, but they could still do their part. “We will send for you should we need you.”

Paschal nodded, and though he did hesitate as if he did not want to part from Laurent, he did, and headed off towards where the man’s body had been carried.

“Fynn,” Laurent asked of him, “Help patrol the beach. Help women to shelter, keep families together.”

“Tiberius,” it was Laurent’s first time addressing him at all. “More ships than what we brought should go to Ios. Immediately.” He looked to Damen for backup as Laurent still technically had no authority here, and he thought they both might benefit from Damen /focusing/.

* * *

Fynn didn’t like the thought of leaving Laurent, but he figured they were at least someplace safe enough that he could do so. He nodded his head and said a quick goodbye to Laurent and Damen before heading off to do as asked.

“Yes, Damianos has just told me the same,” Tiberius replied in an even tone—different than the one he’d been using to speak to Damen. “But sending empty ships will be of little use. Food and water needs to be distributed to those who are waiting in order to fend off a panic.”

“As soon as you’re ready, send the ships back,” Damen said. “They do not need to leave at the same time. A steady stream might be more helpful.”

“I think it would be helpful to have leadership,” Tiberius countered. “Nikandros, why don’t you go back with the first ship?”

“Yes, and leave you two alone here,” Nikandros muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I should go,” Damen said, looking over to Laurent. “I think it would be best that way so you do not fall ill again.” He said the last part quietly, reaching over to push back Laurent’s hair behind his ear. “You could handle things here and I’ll come back to you.”

“You need to /rest/,” Tiberius interjected.

“For once, I agree,” said Nikandros. “Both of you need to spend time on solid ground and recover. We are more than capable to executing orders on your behalf.”

Damen sighed. He truly was exhausted, but he wasn’t sure how he would be bale to erst when so many people still needed help. But his feet did hurt, and his ankles were swelling in his sandals even now. He looked to Laurent, trying to seek an answer on the best decision.

* * *

Laurent hated the idea right away. Absolutely hated it, thought it was reckless and ridiculous and out of the question.

But, upon actually thinking about it, the boats had proven to be the safest place so far in all of this. The people would need leadership on the other side, with both of their kings having already sailed to Isthima. From what Laurent could understand, the /sea/ did not quake during these times - though the water had been violent, it had not been unmanageable by the ships. But sending Damen meant he would be /back/ on Ios, back towards the fire, the flames, the ash, the destruction...

Laurent cast his eyes across the sea where they’d travel, and he could see the dull orange glow in the horizon if Ios burning.

The people needed help, and it could not wait on /him/ to make a decision.

“I want you to stay,” Laurent said honestly, keeping this moment between the two of them despite the eyes he knew were on them. Nikandros would disapprove - as would Tiberius had he said anything more. But he didn’t /have/ to say anything more. He told Damen what he wished, but it was not an order, not a definitive answer. They had to do what was best by their people, and realistically, that meant leading them to safety. They both knew that.

Laurent did /not/ want to see Damen go.

“I am going to be a presence on the beach,” Laurent decided then and there, giving Damen /his/ plan, the idea of their resting be damned. Laurent was not a king here, but to a few people, he was, and he needed to know if any Veretians /had/ made it to Isthima so far, as well as seeing to /all/ people being treated correctly in this.

He needed to look for Korus.

“Cosmas should be protected - /away/ from the beach,” Laurent went on, looking at Nikandros then, taking another worry off Damen so that he might make his own choice. “He should not have to see or hear any more of this.”

“And you -“ Laurent went on, turning his cold eyes to Tiberius quite suddenly, overstepping technically in his ordering over Damen’s ides of a steady stream of ships. His people were there, too. “Boats. Empty or stocked, I do not care. Send them. Panic is already ensuing in Ios. There is nothing to fend off.” The sea would calm them, if not quiet then by making them all sick.

* * *

So the decision was made. Damen would at least be able to rest his aching feet on the ride back to Ios. He nodded to Tiberius that Laurent’s order was to be followed, though Tiberius was giving Laurent an equally icy glare in return.

“People in a panic will want to escape,” Tiberius argued. “They could easily overpower a ship and sink it—then what good would it do to send a ship back if they’ll simply destroy it? I have seen inexperienced captains kill their men by panicking when their ship it struck by lightning. It is an ugly way to die.”

“I’ll go in the first ship,” Damen announced. “They will not rush me when I inform them—“

“You have no idea /what/ they’re going to do,” Tiberius cut. “They may not even recognize you. They could see you standing in the way of their escape and run you down, Exalted.”

“That is a risk I’ll take,” Damen said, his tone warning. “I’m going to be on that ship, send as many guards as you need, but I will be on it.”

Tiberius let out a huff. “Fine. You’ll take my ship—but please see my physician first about your feet. I will put you in boots before we leave—you will get an infection with…” He gestured toward Damen’s burned and blistered feet. “That.”

Damen had already turned to Laurent, framing his face with his hands.

“The people I love most are already safe,” Damen murmured, thumbing Laurent’s ashen cheeks. “I’ll come back.”

Tiberius let out a snort, nudging Nikandros. “So Laurent has made him a romantic too?"

* * *

Tiberius was quite lucky Damen was there. Laurent would have chewed him straight through if given the chance, would have told him that was the whole point of sending /multiple/ boats back. If a boat was sunk, there would be enough boats to still help more than had previously left the island escape. More people would have a chance than they had when their king boarded and left.

Damen took the charge, spoke mindfully and easily to Tiberius while Laurent held his gaze, only turning away when Damen pulled him to.

“If you are not /safe/, Damianos,” Laurent started to threaten, lifting his hands to hold Damen’s at his face. He didn’t have the strength to finish the sentence, clearly unhappy with the decision though he knew it was necessary.

“You will be on the last boat to land, do you understand? Let them rush the first if they must, but you must promise me you’ll be /safe/.”

Damen needed to be seen to. He needed to be tended to properly, but he knew Damen had put up with a lot more for a lot less. His feet would not stop him, neither would his many cuts, gashes, scrapes. He would do what he thought right for others before he ever focused on himself.

“If you are not back to me within the time I think necessary, I /will/ return to Ios to find you. I do not care what state it is in.”

And that was a promise.

* * *

“Okay,” Damen said with a nod. “I won’t be in the first boat.” He couldn’t promise he’d be in the last, but he could at least wait a bit. Surely Laurent would manage that. Waiting until the last boat would seem weak, like he was hiding from his own people when they needed strength.

“Nikandros will stay with you,” Damen decided. “That wya you will have the most powerful person in Akielos around if Tiberius decides to be difficult.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Tiberius muttered.

“When,” Damen corrected with a cockeyed smile. He wished he could take Laurent into his arms and stay that way until this was all over, but there was no time. There were people they needed to save, and Damen was determined to find Korus, if only to stop Laurent from worrying about the boy who had tried to kill him only last evening.

Damen wasn’t even sure what time it was. The sky was dark, but it didn’t seem like it should be.

“I love you,” Damen murmured, pressing kisses to Laurent’s forehead. “Please eat something before you start rallying troops.” He turned to Tiberius. “Tiberius, fetch Laurent something to eat.”

“I’ve been trying to lead you to food this entire time,” Tiberius replied, annoyed. “Please, Exalted. Eat something—I’m sure Laurent would appreciate you taking care of yourself before another journey by boat."

* * *

It didn’t feel like there was time to eat, especially if no one else had been given the right, but Laurent - for once - would not be difficult. Eating had fallen second to everything else since his arrival in Ios, and their last meal had come after a rough day and, as Laurent remembered, had been mostly wine and fruit. He did not feel the need to eat, but thought it best to shove something in his face before he did go out here.

Of course, then Laurent had to realise that he was without /any/ of his own people, and it would be foolish to so brazenly eat in what could technically still be described as enemy land.

He would share with Damen if he stayed, but otherwise, Laurent would pass.

“You should eat,” Laurent did agree with Tiberius, though he did not like the man speaking for him. “Let the first boat leave without you. Give Tiberius the freedom of mind to /go and order the boats sent/.”

Laurent had not made his best impression in Isthima so far, but to be fair, all the current events had taken precedence over his personality. Tiberius has not been terribly welcoming to him, anyway. It seemed like a fair exchange of a greeting.

* * *

“We will eat,” Damen announced. “Tiberius, do as he says. Send the first ships. And mind your attitude toward your future king.” He understood tensions were high, but Tbierius was a Kyros and Damen was king. Just because they had slept together didn’t entitle Tiberius to have an attitude of disrespect or intimacy. Even if he was still handsome.

He took Laurent’s hand and walked ahead to the tent Tiberius had led them toward. Damen could feel his feet bleeding as he walked, but he ignored it. He wanted to make sure Laurent had food.

There was traditional faire for the region - lots of fish. Damen took smoked skewers of charred meat and didn’t even sit down before eating. He was starving. It felt sinful to eat during such a crisis, but he knew he could not lead as well on an empty stomach.

Tiberius didn’t follow them in, but Nikandros appeared a few moments later, looking haggard.

“Good, you’re actually eating,” he said, grabbing up food himself. No one seemed to notice that there weren’t servants to hand them platters.

Damen stayed as close as he could to Laurent, touching him whenever possible as he ate more bread and fish. He didn’t want to part from him unless he had to.

* * *

Laurent did not know what a single cooked meat was, but he went in just as hungrily as Damen, sliding meat off the skewers with his teeth without a second guess as to his appearance. He did not want to stop and take the time to eat, wanted to be out there, helping, doing all he could.

But Damen kept him there, kept him close, and Laurent’s desire to stay by his side willed him down into a seat, forced him to stay.

The nausea from the sea had faded and did not stop Laurent from eating his fill. He knew they had a long— Well, he did not know if it was night or day at the moment, without an ounce of light or a normal amount of exhaustion to indicate the time. They needed to eat, and then, when their people were safe, when they were in their own tents, perhaps they would bathe and rest. Unlikely, but it was something to work towards.

Laurent rested his head on Damen’s shoulder, and even with Nikandros just there, Laurent wrapped both his arms around Damen’s arm, squeezed him close.

“Nikandros,” Laurent started, still in his place wrapped around Damen. “Eat. See that Fynn does as well. You will both be needed in this effort. Send Pa—“

Laurent stopped there, for it was the first person he’d gone to mention that he did not know the fate of. Pallas, Lazar...

“I would have someone /you/ trust travel with Damianos. Any guard you see fit to send.”

And he would not have arguments about that.

“And you need to see a physician before you go,” Laurent told Damen, knowing it to be the truth, as well as using it to keep him from the first few boats that went back. “Have your feet wrapped.” Laurent’s were basically mummified for the time being, wrapped in what had to be linen in place of bandages. Paschal has merely used what he had.

* * *

Damen had no idea who was even alive in his personal guard except for Nikandros, and he wanted Nikandros with Laurent. Pallas…well, he wasn’t sure where Pallas was, but he had a better chance of survival than most. Unless he’d gone back to the palace in search of them and hadn’t come out.

Damen avoided thinking about the fact that if Pallas had survived, he probably would have found them by now.

“I’ll bring the most trustworthy guard I can find,” Damen promised. He liked Laurent wrapped around his arm, there and present and close. Impossible to lose track of.

“I’ll send for Adon,” Nikandros said. “He was a great help to me while you were away, and he was on the boat with us.” He nodded to Laurent. “I’ll see than the Herzog eats.” He paused where he was folding up some meat in a cloth to take to others.

“I know you’re more than capable, but do not let Tiberius walk all over you, Laurent,” Nikandros said, meeting his eye. “He’s more to your style—crafty. As you can see, he walked all over Damianos.”

“He did not—“

“He did,” Nikandros laughed. “I was hoping you were not still a man affected by a tight ass and—“

“I slept with him /once/,” Damen muttered. “/Three years ago./“

“And the first thing you said to him was that he’d grown.” Nikandros rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Laurent, other people would have strung him up by the cock for that statement alone.”

“Have you forgotten I’m your king?” Damen snapped, but it was fond. He tossed a shrimp at Nikandros, who caught it without looking and popped it in his mouth like it was no great feat.

“Occasionally,” he finally said with a smirk. “When you are acting like a boy."

* * *

It was almost normal for them for a moment, light-hearted and /easy/. Laurent had already suspected Damen’s past with Tiberius - it had been made abundantly clear - so it was no shock to hear it now. He felt even better about the fact that /he/ did not have to be the person to bring it forward. Nikandros had him fully supported on that front.

“I’ve not the energy to string him up for his wiles,” Laurent chuckled as if he were the eldest and wiser here. “Let the Kyros of Isthima think I am spineless or whatever he feels. At the end of the day, I will have more rule than he over his own land.” Laurent leaned back to look at Nikandros. “No offense to you, of course.”

It was the first time Laurent and Nikandros had spoken to each other this way in front of Damianos. They were usually so casual only during their wrestling.

“Are there any beautiful young men aside from Nikandros here I should worry about?” Laurent asked teasingly, his chin settled on Damen’s shoulder.

It felt wrong. This whole conversation felt wrong.

It felt too normal, too calm, unlike something they should be having while Ios was still in flames.

Laurent cleared his throat and moved to stand. Having eaten, he had no right to still be sitting here, to rest and to chat about Damen’s past so frivolously and freely…when most of it was gone.

“I will be able to handle the Kyros,” Laurent settled, a little more sober. “You’ll not need to worry about me."

* * *

Damen was warmed by the rapport between Laurent and Nikandros, even if it was being used to make fun of him. He knew he should be more thankful that Laurent had Fynn as a friend as well, but…he was a long way from that. Fynn still intruded on Laurent’s personal space too often for Damen’s liking.

“There are beautiful men /and/ women wherever Damianos is,” Nikandros chuckled.

The silence that followed reminded them all of the current situation. Damen felt it the same as Laurent did, and followed him to stand.

“I will always worry about you,” Damen said softly. He pressed a kiss to Laurent’s temple just as a portly man bumbled into the tent, looking out of breath. At the sight of Damen he prostrated himself on the floor, his greying curls haphazard on his round head.

“Exalted,” the man greeted. “I am Binotto, physician for the Kyros of Isthima. Please allow me to attend you, His Excellency, Tiberius, insists.”

“So does Laurent of Vere,” Damen said with a smile to Laurent. “And I do my best to listen to the latter.”

He sat back down and offered his feet, but held out his hand to Laurent to beckon him closer. Binotto worried loudly in accented Akielon as he began to undo the lacings of Damen’s sandals.

“Kiss me goodbye?” Damen asked. “I will come back as soon as I can."

* * *

Laurent would not admit to how Damen’s words warmed him.

“As you should,” Laurent agreed, stepping forward to stand behind Damen where he wrapped his arms around Damen’s shoulders, leant in to kiss his cheek.

Laurent watched the physician work, watching how he peeled the sandals off Damen’s feet, how he cleaned them, what he smoothed over them. Laurent wanted to be able to help later, when Damen had returned, when they could begin to move forward from /this/.

He rested his chin atop Damen’s head - he so rarely got to look over it - and took a moment, just holding Damen, being close to Damen.

“Remember what I said,” Laurent murmured planting another kiss atop Damen’s head. “If you are not back in this tent by the time I believe you should be, I /will/ come to find you. Even if I have to get onto a boat to do so.”

It was a very real threat that could end with them both dead, but Laurent knew that Damen knew that he /would/ do it. He would risk it all to find Damen. He’d already tried, and Jord would not be there to stop him this time.

* * *

Damen liked being held. He leaned back in his chair when Laurent’s arms came around him, snuggling into the hold. At long last, Lauren was learning how to show his love in a way Damen better understood and appreciated. People /knew/ they were in love now, even if they were still skeptical of Laurent. He liked to think time away from Arles would only further show Laurent how free he could be.

He flinched as Binotto began to wrap his feet now that they had been coated in salve. They were puffy and painful, but the mixture in the poultice was cooling the pain somewhat. Laurent’s kisses helped too.

“You had better be here when I come back,” he said. “You are allowed to tell Tiberius to handle things so you don’t get overwhelmed. Your body had been through more than his today—he is competent, you can trust him even with his sour attitude.”

He turned his head up to smile at Laurent.

“I think he’s simply jealous."

* * *

“As he should be,” Laurent murmured with just the hint of prideful smile, his eyes still trained on Damen’s feet. He supposed they did not look /so/ bad now that they had been tended to. Ideally, they would both be off their feet after what had happened today, but that was not an option. They had to see that everyone else got off of their feet first, and then they would be able to rest.

Or /try/ to rest.

“And my body has been through worse,” Laurent reminded Damen with a quick peck to his cheek. “I get to muddle through this time without a dagger in my shoulder or chains about my extremities. I will be fine so long as you are fine.”

It was another thinly veiled threat to Damen, delivered so sweetly and kindly despite the intentions behind it. If Damen acted up and got himself in more trouble than was necessary, Laurent /would/ make him regret it in some way or another.

* * *

Damen was finally released from Binotto to walk on his own. Walking was painful, but after a few tentative steps, Damen was able to get himself moving properly without limping. Tiberius supplied him boots that would not win him any awards in fashion, but they were much better than sandals.

When they arrived at the boats Adon stood beside Nikandros. Damen greeted him, recognizing him from the earthquakes in the north. He had jagged scars across his face that were hard to forget. Adon bowed in greeting.

“This boat is ready,” Tiberius said. “She is my favorite, you’ll enjoy the ride.”

Damen didn’t think he would. He was leaving Laurent again after nearly losing him twice in one day.

Nikandros had rallied a small guard o go with Adon, and gave Damen a slap to the shoulder to send him off.

“Please don’t leave me with the King,” he joked. “I’ll never hear the end of it if you don’t come back.”

Something churned in his gut. Damen suddenly didn’t want to leave. His feet felt heavy, like his body was trying to make him stay put. Oddly enough, it wasn’t fear. Damen wasn’t afraid of fire or quakes so long as Laurent was safe.

He turned to Laurent catching his eyes for a moment like he might feel the same way. Damen’s brow furrowed just slightly, concerned.

“Exalted,” the captain said. “We must move. Other boats need to take our spot.”

“Yes, of course,” Damen said, breaking his gaze from his betrothed. “Let’s depart right away."

* * *

Laurent was readied for his part in the occasion. Jord came forward with a troupe of Akielon guards and a few familiar Veretian guards. Laurent would not express how happy he was to see faces he knew, people of his that had made it out.

He did, unfortunately he might add, see Cylan being carried into a tent, bemoaning some minor burn that he could clearly still walk on, but Laurent did not let that dampen his otherwise hopeful mood for his people, as forced as even that might be.

“Fynn,” Laurent called, “Get these men to the docking ships.” He pointed out to where two ships were just arriving at the port. “Jord, you see to the wounded first, get them to the physicians. Anyone with medical training should be sent to help as well.”

Jord nodded and led his charge, leaving Laurent to turn to Damen.

And his heart instantly sunk when he saw Damen on that gangplank, moments away from parting from him again.

Laurent had the instant need to jump on that ship and go with him, but that /wasn't/ an option. Not only would he be useless, but he would leave those survivors here without any royal representation, abandoned by their kings. It was imperative that Laurent stayed here, but it made him so sick to see Damen leaving.

He didn’t like it.

And he was so far back, there was nothing he could do. He was already on his charge, sending men about, ready to see to survivors. Their goodbye had been in that tent, brief, with the understanding that Damen was on a countdown and Laurent would not be without him for long.

Laurent would hold to that.

“The tents,” Laurent said, turning when Damen did, and putting his eyes on Nikandros. “We will start in the tents. I need to find my people as well as give them a familiar face.” Which would ultimately be Nikandros. Laurent did not know how many would be grateful to see /him/.

* * *

Damen watched from the bow as Laurent took charge He saw Fynn head off with a group of men, and Jord leave soon after. Nikandros walked away with Laurent, headed back toward the mayhem. Damen was just thankful he had someone he could trust watching over his sometimes-reckless husband-to-be.

Once Laurent was gone from view, Damen headed down to the hold with Adon to begin mapping out a plan. He knew they needed to document the damage, and that complete reports would help everyone understand the extent of the damage.

By the time they put together a preliminary plan, they were halfway across the channel. Damen made his way out onto the deck and folded his arms. Ios was still burning, and the dark haze of smoke in the sky was thickening the closer they were.

Suddenly Damen saw something through the haze. He squinted, wondering if he was even awake. Half of a mountain had launched itself into the—

The loudest sound he had ever experienced tore through him, knocking him straight onto his back. Deafening was an understatement. The boat crunched together around him, and he tried to scramble up again in time to see a mass of smoke and flame shooting into the air.

His father spoke of a smoking mountain when he was small. They all knew about it, they all saw smoke rising from it every so often. But this was something wrathful. The earth had cleaved, spewing smoke and fire in a way Damen didn’t even know how to process.

But he knew enough to launch himself toward the captain.

“Turn around! Turn around! Back to Isthima!”

Behind him, the land was being swallowed by fire and blackness. Water began to pour into the ship, and he heard the busting of rivets and screaming of sailors below.

Perhaps the world really was ending.


	20. Chapter 20

“I told you the gods would not have this.”

That was the first conversation Nikandros and Laurent had walked in on. And elderly couple, ashen and frail, had somehow managed to stay together and make it out onto the ships alive. They must have been fish farmers, close to the coast. Laurent had nearly been happy to see them, to have the first people they met with be a family that had stuck together.

“This is our punishment. Theomedes himself if probably leading the charge…”

Laurent moved on from that tent and into another.

No one seemed particularly excited to see Laurent as he came through to catalogue what he considered his and Damen’s surviving people. Nikandros was better received, as Laurent had expected, so he always entered behind him, mostly to catch what might have been said, to gauge the responses to all of this.

The third tent was Lucien, who nearly got himself killed by Nikandros when he launched himself up to bow before Laurent. He had not stopped crying from what Laurent could see, but Jord had seen him comfortable. He was fitted with a bedroll and pillow, a wash bowl and cloth. He wore a few new scrapes, but nothing too terrible, nothing that would ruin his career should he ever desire to pursue it again.

Laurent urged him back to bed, urged him to rest. The boy was closer to Laurent’s age than he was given credit for, but Laurent could not help but categorise Lucien with all the other boys he’d somehow managed to ‘adopt.’ He needed to at least take care of one of them if he could not control the others.

The next time he heard the sentiment of the gods’ wraths, it was from his own council member. Mathe had been one of the first on the ships, he boasted, and he had remained almost completely unscathed. Already he had two boys around him, Akielon in blood, cleansing him of what little ash covered him. Laurent supposed he should be glad they were safe.

“There were mentions of this,” Mathe murmured. “We did not take them into consideration, of course. It felt foolish to place such decisions on the gods, but now?”

Laurent rolled his eyes and strode out, checking down, down, down the line of tents, until he opened the flap to a boy only accompanied by /Paschal/. He was of clear Veretian lineage, the boy, but one that did not look familiar until-

“Laurent—“ Nikandros warned, drawing his sword as Laurent took in that this boy was /Korus/. The haircut had changed him yes, but more than that had the burns, the open gashes on his back that Paschal was attempting to clean. Korus looked terrible, unlike he ever had before, and Laurent could not help but—

The resonance of the initial blast rang in Laurent’s ears as he whipped around, thinking less of Korus in that moment and keeping him in sight. In an instant, Laurent tore out of the tent, Nkandros close on his heel to join all those who had just reacted in the same way. They all lined the tents, the shore, and they all watched in horror as the sky lit and darkened in a devastating cloud of smoke and fire.

“Damianos—“ Nikandros muttered, but there was no time. People who had made it to the shore of Isthima, people already safe and accounted for began into a second round of panic. Some wailed and mourned their homes, those left behinds, the animals they’d had to abandon. Others rushed the shore as if they might swim to Ios itself. Others began to panic, began to scream at the idea that whatever that was might find its way over here, that gods might just be taking them all.

“Stop them!” Laurent went right into action, pointing any guard that would listen to those rushing the shore, the boats still afloat there. “Get everyone inside!” They are on an island. There was nowhere to run.

“Get—“

Nikandros was at Laurent’s side immediately, urging /him/ inside, as Laurent had not even noticed /he/ had gone towards the shore with the same intention of all the others.

Damen was out there, could have made it to Ios by now, could be there—

“The smoke will reach us here at most,” Nikandros hissed to Laurent, ushering him in a hurry back to the tent from where he’d run, and though Nikandros seemed certain of that, he did rush Laurent /away/ from the shore where already the waves had begun to rise and crash the beach. Laurent genuinely had no idea what /would/ follow them anymore, and he hesitated, staring out at the shoreline until Nikandros forced him back again. “Get inside, get /inside/!"

* * *

Damen watched a man burn alive. Just a figure on the shore of Ios, but he disintegrated there on the sand. In fact, his body melted right in front of him amidst all of the screaming. Damen corralled the men below deck, but there was already water filling up Tiberus’s prized boat. He thought of Laurent, how he might try to come to Ios in all of this if he didn’t survive.

“Men!” Damen cried. “Buckets!” He grabbed one and started scooping water. He was no sailor, but he’d grown up by the ocean—he had seen crews at work from the shore. Gradually, the men began to follow through. Soon they were dumping water out of the ship at a decent pace, but Damen wasn’t sure they could make it back.

The captain looked ill, but he was still leading as the boat started to turn around. Smoke was crawling over the surface of the ocean, sifting toward them. The air smelled horrific, like fear and piss.

There wasn’t time to acknowledge what had just happened to his home, but Damen couldn't shake the image of the man melting away.

“Watch out!” a man called just before darkness overtook them.

The smoke was hot. Not burning, but uncomfortable. It burned his throat, but he kept from coughing as long as he could. Wind began to whip up from the south, pushing the smoke away as they rowed forward away from the blast.

Damen was coated in ash again. The boat was still taking on water.

Back on shore, Tiberus was shaking as he called out to Geneva to ready a rescue ship. “We have to find Damianos, he said. “We have to find him.”

Beyond the water, Vesuna had turned orange, a glowing lamp in he night even though it was day—when had it gotten so dark?

* * *

Laurent was hardly easy to grab a hold of. Nikandros had made a mistake in giving him any sort of wrestling lessons, in teaching Laurent how to loose himself from grapples. He got out of the first three holds when he heard they were sending a rescue ship. Laurent was not worth anything on a ship, but he needed to be there, he needed to help. He could /see/ the smoke spreading, could see it overtaking into the water—

Nikandros got a good grip on the venetian king, and Laurent knocked him right in the nose for it. Blood sprayed between them, which only served to make Nikandros angrier.

But that transgression alone was lost amidst the rest of the chaos. People being escorted back into tents, pulled from the shore, people trying to make it through to the rescue boat, almost flooding it twice with desperate fathers, brothers - everyone but the guards meant for the boat.

Laurent should be on that boat.

Nikandros was crossing into treason, and he was not so certain Damianos could save him of that.

“Fynn!” He called out amidst the chaos, for if anyone could be spared by Laurent, it would be the Herzog.

* * *

Fynn wasn’t far behind Nikandros. The moment he saw a blond flash toward the beach, he saw Nikandros a moment later. He darted after them, but it was hard to get close with how many people were fighting to go every which way. He slipped under a flailing arm, and ducked to his knees to grab Laurent around the hips with one arm.

“Laurent,” he said sternly, fighting against a current of elbows and clawing hands. Nikandros had blood rushing down his face and he was spitting blood into the sand. Nik grabbed Laurent’s shoulder, and Fynn took his chance to hook both arms under Laurent’s, hoisting him backward.

“Enough!” Fynn hissed. “If Damen is coming back, it has already been decided.” Fynn knew how catastrophes at sea worked. He didn’t wan to think about Damen’s chances of survival.

Tiberius flew by him, a torch raised above his head and an onslaught of guards behind. He screamed out into the crowd, but it was too late. Too many people were trying to get onto the boat, and it was only a fisherman’s ship not made for more than twenty.

Fynn’s hold turned to more of an embrace as the boat dipped too far int the water and the passengers leapt for the docks or into the water itself.

“You promised him you would be in that tent,” Nikandros reminded Laurent, his voice slightly altered by his bleeding nose. “Damen will do whatever he can to get there. It is the first place he’ll go. You need to stay there and wait.”

Fynn didn’t yet loosen his hold. “Please, Laurent.” People were screaming as the boat sank, and Fynn tried to force his head away.

“Nik is right. We need to go to the tent. It is too dangerous."

* * *

Laurent would swim the channel if he had to. He’d dive right in and the same gods everyone kept saying had planned this would give him the strength and skill he needed to get to Damen, to bring him back to him. Laurent had made the threat - the /promise/ - that he would find Damen in time, and that time was /now/. They could not even see what was happening to Ios, but Laurent couldn’t even bring himself to wonder. A ship on that sea right now, the heat they could feel /here/.

Laurent let out a sound of absolute frustration as he buried his face into Fynn’s arms. He couldn’t think of /anything/. There were only so many ships left, none ready to set sail, and not one Laurent could captain alone. Any ship would be at risk of capsizing anyway, and then what good would any of them be?

And he’d allowed the one chance of a rescue not to sink because /he hadn’t stopped it/. He hadn’t anticipated it! How could anyone?

Laurent shook his head, inadvertently clasping at Fynn’s arms in what might have been an attempt to make him let go, but Laurent never tugged, never pulled, never fought.

Jord was among the men trying to fight what was happening at the boat, but the mad rush was mainly made of Akielons. Jord did not know enough Akielon to command any one of them, and no one regarded him anyway. It didn’t matter, of course. In mere moments, the boat was in the water, adding to the chaos around them.

Laurent turned his eyes to the sea again, at an absolute loss.

He shouldn’t have let Damen go.

* * *

Fynn did what he could, holding Laurent close as he realized the truth in his words. All they could do was wait. Damen would either return or he wouldn’t— there was no other way to go about it. They had to hope that Damianos was as strong as so many thought him to be. Fynn took no mirth in the situation. Though he still was a bit too fond of Laurent, he understood that Damianos was the one who had his heart. No one else would ever be so close to Laurent as him, not even the man who knew his brother—who had /loved/ his brother.

“If the commotion dies down, we can wait by the sea,” Fynn offered, gently pulling Laurent along toward the tents. Nikandros was holding his bleeding face, and Fynn reached out to him, helping hold the cloth to his nose.

Once inside the tent, Fynn began to cough. The air was getting thick, and the darkness was worsening. Outside there was only the orange glow of the mountain that was bleeding fire. Fynn had never seen anything like it. The sound had been so loud he was certain he still hadn’t recovered all of his hearing. He wondered if any men did return, if they would be deaf from it.

“Where’s Damianos?” Tiberius asked some time later, bursting into the tent.

Fynn had been speaking quietly to Nikandros, keeping his arm around Laurent as best he could. He knew there was no use in trying to console him when they had no idea where Damen was.

“On your ship,” Fynn growled. “We haven’t seen him since.”

Tiberius paled. “Oh fuck. I thought—“ He didn’t finish his sentence and shook his head. “Survivors have been swimming in.”

Fynn perked up slightly. “They have?”

“A few,” Tiberius clarified, glancing at Laurent. “A few ships were close enough to return, it seems. There may even be a ship still out there, but it is impossible to see in this haze.”

“If anyone could keep a group of men from sinking a ship, it’s Damianos,” Nikandros said with a nod to Laurent. “We will know soon.”

* * *

Laurent didn’t say anything in the tent, treating it very much like the captive situation it was. It wasnt like there was anything he could say. Outside of being in his head, they had wrapped his nose and mouth in a cloth to protect him from the smoke spilling in, which he was convinced was more there to keep him from running everyone away with his words.

He stared at the tent flap it what may have looked like hopeless defeat, was every bit of Laurent waiting for the moment they would let him run out there. Swimming wasnt a real option, it was not a skill Laurent had, but even a small Fisherman’s boat could work. He could man the oars himself, face the waves and whatever life there may be under the surface. If it meant returning Damianos to him, he would do anything, /face/ anything.

Nikandros held a similar cloth to his face. The bleeding had stopped from Laurent’s abuse, but the cloth protected him from the smoke as well. He was just forced to breathe in the coppery scent of his own blood on top of everything else. All the same, Laurent knew if he tried to make a break for it, Nikandros would not be encumbered enough to not spring up and grab Laurent.

The air stayed thick. Soon everyone was forced to wear the cloths, forced to speak in shouts—

But that did not mean Laurent appreciated it when Tiberius burst in, shouting for answers they all wanted.

Laurent shot a cold glare over to Tiberius, but Fynn manned the conversation, allowing Laurent his time to just watch the man. Did he think /he/ cared more about Damen’s missing than Laurent did? Did he think Laurent did not wonder the same thing?

Laurent shook out of Fynn’s hold and moved to his feet, leveling his gaze on Tiberius at the tent flap and, with a curt and sharp “Move,” he pushed past him.

They’d been right. It was impossible to se anything, and the air outside of the tent was even worse than inside. The glow of the fiery mountain could barely be seen now, but Laurent moved to the shore anyway, relying on the cloth about his mouth and nose. There were still a few dozen men outside, Veretian and Akielon, helping those who had come ashore, scouting what they could, checking on others, handing out cloths. Laurent coughed and continued forward and, stubborn as he was, plopped right down on the sand at the shoreline, just above where the high tide mixed with sand.

It was as far as he could go.

* * *

Fynn didn’t chase after Laurent like he was escaping. He knew that Laurent wouldn’t be jumping into the sea to attempt a rescue now. He fixed the cloth tighter around his face before shoving past Tiberius to leave Nikandros to deal with him.

“You really are something,” Nikandros muttered as he stood. “Could you be any more insensitive?” He waited until Fynn and Laurent were further away (not that he could see them) to say, “He may very well have lost the most important person in his life. And I, mine. No one knows where he is.”

Tiberius bristled for a moment, then released the tension with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I was just told that he hadn’t returned. I thought you had all come here because he was found.”

Nikandros shook his head solemnly. he was still holding out hope, but it was flickering now.

Fynn sat down right beside Laurent on the beach, undeterred. The sky was a hellish red and black above, and sounds like thunder crackled in the air every so often around them.

“He’ll come,” Fynn said, but he wasn’t completely sure about that.

Black, gritty waves licked at their feet. People were sobbing and moaning all around, but the panic could only last so long. Many were sleeping on the beach until equally exhausted citizens helped them up and into tents. Fynn hadn’t seen one man of his guard since that morning. The guilt was gnawing at him, but he knew Auguste would have wanted him to look after Laurent. In fact, he’d promised to.

The surf was angry beyond the beach, frothing and seething black. Further down the shore two boys waded into the water, but they didn’t look hurried. Fynn lost them in the dark and moved a bit closer to Laurent.

“Don’t go into that water,” he warned. “It may look calm here at the beach, but the current is under the surface. If you are not careful it could take you out to sea. I will not have Damianos’s wrath a second time for losing you."

* * *

“So what you are telling me,” Laurent started through a broken voice, more from the cough than anything. “Is that the current could make it nearly impossible for a man to swim to shore?” He turned his eyes to Fynn, and where he meant for cold judgement, there was just a silent bit of hope that Fynn had not meant that - or could convince Laurent that was not what he meant.

“They’re saying its the gods,” Laurent told Fynn, turning back to the surf. The water was warm at their feet, at least. “That this is Theomedes leading some revolt about the union. And I do think they believe it.”

He wouldn’t put it past any of them, of course.

“Veretians are saying it, too.”

Laurent was just talking, which meant his mind was on absolute fire with all of this. He was busying himself just trying to distract from it all, to keep his voice going, to keep himself from /reacting/ to any of it more than he already had.

“But I found Korus. He’s terribly burnt - he’ll never be a pet again. And Cosmas is safe. If Akielos needs a new leader, it will be secure in the hands of an infant."

* * *

“It is unfortunate timing,” Fynn sad, his voice raspy from the dust and smoke. The air was hot, as though they were sitting in a stuffy room, not outdoors by the ocean. He wondered if the whole world was experiencing this or if it was just Ios. If his family was still alive in Kempt.

“Disasters happen. If Theomedes loved Damen as he said, he wouldn’t destroy his home. Once the panic subsides, all of that talk will be forgotten if you and Damianos remain the strong leaders that you are.”

He gave Laurent a nudge. “I have heard your union has already been consummated in the eyes of the traditional Akielon. I would wager you have some say over the throne if you argued for it. At least until Cosmas grows. And by then you will have convinced them you are the right king.”

He felt it was best to ease into these conversations as hypotheticals while Damen’s fate was undetermined. The worst outcome in this would not be finding Damen dead, but losing his body to the sea with no proof one way or the other. Nikandros had told him about attending Damen’s funeral the first time, ad Akielos wouldn’t have forgotten that.

The boys reappeared in the sea, dragging along something large and oddly shaped. They hauled it from the water but continued to pull, and Fynn squinted to see what looked like a rope in their hands.

He stood up without thinking. “Don’t go anywhere,” he murmured, stepping into the haze and closer to the boys.

Despite their lackadaisical movement from afar, the truth was that the boys were soaked from sweat and saltwater, pulling feverishly at the ropes in their hands as they fought the surf.

“What is it?” Fynn called, rushing to grab the rope. They coughed, shaking their heads. He began to pull with them and then stopped when an ominous shape began to emerge from the darkness. A broken mast, massive and gleaming white, dozens of arms wrapped around it, some bodies slung over the wood.

“Kick!” a battered voice croaked out from the water. “Kick!”

Fynn began to pull harder.

“We have the King of Akielos!” someone called in Veretian. “He’s injured!”

“They have the king!” Fynn translated to Akielon. The boys looked at each other and started pulling harder.

“Help!” one of them cried. “Damianos lives! Help us pull him in!"

* * *

Laurent took no joy in the idea of ruling Akielos without Damen, and he was sure his ancestors were writhing for it. The very idea made him nauseous. Without Damen, he did not want Akielos. Yes, he would see that it was taken care of, that its people did not suffer, but Akielos was not his true goal. Damen had been, and this was sickening him, the idea that Damen might not be at his side for this.

He swiped at his eyes quickly, kept an eye out on the horizon, even as Fynn left his side.

Right until the moment he heard the Veretian words - then echoed in Akielon that he could understand.

A commotion started of men, running to the shore. Laurent bounded well past Nikandros before he even realized he was up, sliding over the sand as he responded to a call he had not even fully processed.

Laurent was one of maybe twenty men pulling at the mast, his orders lost amongst a dozen others, but they were all demanding the same: “Pull! Heave!” And everything in between. The rope burned their hands, pulled by the waves, but the moment the mast was close enough, many of the men used the line to lead them safely to the mast that was only a few meters out from the shoreline now. Those who could swim well enough helped the men on the mast while more men crowded around to pull.

One man - a guard of Isthima - knocked Laurent almost off his feet when he misstepped, when his hands slid on the ropes and left him toppling into Laurent and the man behind them. Not one of them had the recognition to notice what they had done, and Laurent hardly cared, getting right back onto his feet and joining back in with the men, until finally, they had the mast close enough that Laurent himself could run headlong into the sea.

The water came up to his waist, which was quite deep enough, and he joined in the throng of men helping others, frantically searching for Damen all the while in the dark, the smog, the black water.

He got himself dunked once or twice trying to help desperate men, men stuck in roped, men dragged under water otherwise too shallow for Laurent to even think of drowning. Unable to find Damen, and beginning to think he might be one of the men twisted in the ropes, Laurent grabbed hold of the first dagger he could find - which he ripped right out of the sheath on a guard next to him - and started sawing at the ropes as a few men had begun to do on the other side.

Sea water splashed everywhere around them, waves knocked them every which away in the choppy surf, and Laurent was taken under more than once by waves crashing over head or simply being to tall for him to clear. He used the rope he was cutting to keep himself from being dragged under or away as Fynn had warned, only letting go to wipe his eyes of the salt water once or twice before going back at it, searching anywhere for a sign of Damen among the commotion.

* * *

Fynn tried to keep his eyes on Laurent, but it was difficult with all of the activity—not to mention the surf and darkness. The men arriving were weak, their bodies waterlogged and their eyes sunken. Fynn recognized Adon as Nikandros pulled him from the mast and dragged him to shore. He couldn’t believe any of them had survived. They had made it to the middle of the channel at least, by Fynn’s calculation, and making it back? He didn’t see how they had managed it.

“Laurent!” he screamed when he saw the king run out into the water even deeper. The current was strong, and men were drowning. They were likely to pull someone else down, and Laurent didn’t have the skill in he water to pull himself up.

A few moments later, NIkandros called out into the gloom. “I have him! I have Damianos!”

Damen was hardly there though. Nikandros had to enlist the help of several men to free him from ropes, and for a moment Nikandros thought he was already drowned. But Damen let out an exhale when Nik grabbed his face.

Fynn grabbed Laaurent’s wrist, guiding him through the thrashing surf and keeping him above water. Nikandros was on the other side of the mast, pulling Damen through the waves and to the beach. Damen was soaked through, obviously, and water was leaking from his lips as he attempted to cough, his body shaking. Thank the gods the sea wasn’t colder.

“We need to get him someplace warm,” Nikandros said. “I think he’s bleeding somewhere, but I can’t see."

* * *

“Tent!” It was all Laurent could manage, both from the exertion of fighting the surf and keeping himself from throwing himself on the ground next to Damen and halting the rescue process altogether. He could not even sense the relief of Damen being there just yet, not with the way he looked, the way he was shaking.

“Fetch Paschal to the kings’ tent,” Jord called, hurriedly pointing to Lucien, whom Laurent had not even seen on the shore, having clearly followed Jord out of the tent to help in whatever way he could. Lucien darted across the sand in the direction opposite of where Laurent, Nikandros, Fynn, and one other man Laurent could not name, dragged Damen towards the tent.

Laurent hit his knees at Damen’s side at Damen’s side, giving into the need to just hold him, feel him - but of course, Laurent was helping. Damen was waterlogged, freezing, and Laurent had to offer something while the fire was being stoked, tended to.

“Damen,” Laurent tried to call him to, touching his face with little taps while also trying to keep from dripping more water into his mouth, his eyes. Laurent was soaked, stuck and covered with sand, but most of the ash was gone, leaving him with only streaks of black about his body. “Damen.” Laurent was warmer than Damen at the very least and could be helpful until a blanket was brought, until the fire was brought to.

Nikandros was close at Laurents side, checking for injury, while the other guard who had assisted them fanned the fire, which now had a radiating warmth in the centre of the tent. Paschal entered only a few moments later, and then he was on his knees on the other side of Damen, ear to Damen’s mouth. He seemed to take away what he needed from that, as he moved away, and Laurent felt himself lurch when Paschal returned with a knife in his hand.

“For his clothes,” Nikandros hissed at Laurent, grabbing tight to the wrist Laurent had apparently shot his arm out to grab.

Paschal continued on all the same, using the knife to snap the rope still twisted about Damen’s form while Nikandros reached into pull away the cloth. Damen had to be manhandled around - which was no easy feat - but a moment later, he was covered in a thick blanket, which Laurent was asked not to crowd until he himself had been tended to, changed from his sopping chiton.

“I ask for room,” Paschal said as politely as he could, but the urgency he spoke with suggested there was still much to be done.

* * *

Fynn kept his thoughts to himself, but Damianos did not look good. His skin was turning bluish, and if he was bleeding that meant he was probably weaker than he should be. The rope looked painful around his body, leaving welts as Paschal carefully cut away the greenish, mottled ropes. Fynn tried his best to calm Laurent, but Nikandros faced the brunt of his worry.

Damen had yet to stir.

“Laurent,” Fynn said quietly, grasping his shoulders. “You need to change. Damen will only get cold again if you embrace him soaking wet like this."

“We wouldn’t have survived without him,” Adon said, his eyes glazed. Nikandros threw a blanket over Adon’s shoulders to keep him from freezing. “The ship started to sink and he made sure we gathered together once we knew we wouldn’t be able to get the water out of the deck. That fire—I’ve never seen anything like it. Vesuva is gone. It threw itself into the—“

Nikandros cut him off with a look, patting his shoulder.

“Damianos made sure we waited until the last second. When the mast cracked apart we took hold and made our journey back. I don’t know how we found the right direction.” Adon looked over to Paschal. “He was injured when the mast fell. I wasn’t able to—“

“I see it,” Paschal said distractedly. “Now please, I must focus on the ask at hand.”

Fynn gave Laurent another tug. “You need to warm up, Laurent,” he murmured. “It’s time to change out of these wet clothes."

* * *

Convincing Laurent to leave Damen’s side was no easy feat. Paschal had to tell him directly that his presence was hindering Damen’s recovery, and it was only /then/ that Laurent followed Fynn’s suggestion of changing. But he absolutely refused to leave the packed tent, refused to be further away from Damen than he needed to be.

He had hoped to never see Damen again like this, and having seen it once did not make this easier. Damen’s injuries before had been manageable. Laurent had seen them happen, knew exactly what had laid him out like this in Ios after his fight with Kastor—

Ios...

Laurent crossed the tent quickly, pushing through the dim-lit, overcrowded tent to the other side of the fire. He did not care of the company, of the vulnerability, of the stigma of nudity that came from a life of being Veretian nobility.

The only warning he gave was when he handed Fynn a blanket that had been passed to him, and asked him to hold it up.

Laurent undid the chiton easily, unhindered by the tie or pin, and it slopped onto the ground heavily, pooling at his feet. He took up the blanket then and wrapped it around himself, before he took his seat right by the fire next to Damen again, mindful not to block the path of the heat to Damen. The blanket covered more than his chiton had, but Laurent was mindful that it was not attached or pinned anywhere, so he held it about himself.

It was all that kept his hands off Damen.

Nikandros watched Fynn all the while, distracting himself from where /he/ could not be at Damen’s side without sacrificing Laurents spot or the warmth Damen needed from direct heat. Laurent did not even care if he was being monitored, did not even think of what he and Fynn had had, and Nikandros was lucky of that. Had Laurent suspected doubt in this moment, he probably would have head Nikandros beheaded before Damen awoke.

And he /would/ wake. Laurent knew he would.

He knew it.

* * *

Fynn assisted Laurent as best he could, shielding him from prying eyes with the blanket. He almost stopped him from leaving with just the blanket on, but there was no new clothing to change into. Paschal continued with Damen, who was at least breathing noticeably now, though labored. Fynn prided himself on not even glancing at Laurent’s naked body when he had the chance.

Paschal was beginning to lift the blanket from Damianos when he lurched suddenly, vomiting all over the ten floor. Except it wasn’t sick, just soot, ash, and saltwater. Pashcal and Nikandros moved Damen to his side so he could continue to cough up liquids, throwing his body into tremors again.

Paschal dabbed the sweat that was rapidly forming on Damen’s brow, then handed the task off to Laurent so that he didn’t go mad with just watching.

The heat was becoming stifling in the tent, but Damen was still shaking.

Fynn began to clear everyone out who wasn’t part of the royal party, instructing the others to find more survivors and to tend to them.

Fynn’s back was turned when Damen’s eyes flew open, frightened. All around him were shadowy faces and blazing heat. He couldn’t remember anything from the sea, but he remembered seeing the mountain, all of that fire—

Damen screamed, a sound of pure terror Nikandros had only heard a few times before in his life. Damen began to kick and flail wildly, launching Nikandros back with a kick to the sternum, and striking Paschal hard in the neck.

He stopped upon recognizing Laurent, but it didn’t make sense to see him here. Laurent’s hair was wet, and he was only wearing a blanket. Damen scrambled up onto his elbows, breathing hard. Breathing /hurt/.

“Laurent?” he croaked. His head was pounding, his vision going black. “Am I dead?"

* * *

Dabbing Damen’s forehead felt as purposeful as stitching up a wound at that point to Laurent, who had been sat idly by for too long. They would not let him touch, would not let him move any closer for so long. He nearly thanked Paschal when he was finally given something to tend to, a reason to be useful, the ability to help.

But there was nothing that could have been done when Damen lurched and vomited. In the quick movements, they’s turned him /towards/ Laurent, who had to scramble back and around to help Damen through it. He nearly missed the dull moment he’d had sitting idly by then, but he did not take the time to mourn it. He ran his hand through Damen’s hair, kept it back as he expelled enough sea water to undo all that his blanket had been intended for—

And then the small frenzy started.

Nikandros inadvertently shoved Laurent back, trying to keep him safe from the damage he now knew firsthand Damen could do when panicked. Nikandros had only just wiped the blood from his face, and now he was clutching his chest, coughing from where Damen had just knocked the wind right out of him. But Laurent was back up in a flash, unafraid, unbothered - just ready to be /there/, no matter what might happen.

“Lay down,” Laurent spoke as calmly as he could while also being authoritative. He applied pressure to Damen’s shoulder, pushed him to the ground away from where the sand was soaked with whatever had been clogging his lungs. “Shh, shh…you’re still very much alive.” And he would be feeling it for a while, if Laurent had to guess.

The blanket had pooled about Laurents lap, which he used to his advantage as he pulled Damen’s head into his lap to hold it, to reassure him, to hold him, to make sure he /stayed/ alright. Laurent needed him to /stay/ alright.

“You’re back on Isthima,” Laurent murmured, bending over in a way that looked uncomfortable so that he might be able to kiss Damen’s brow, his eyelids. “You’re with me."

* * *

Damen still wasn’t sure what was real. HIs mouth tasted like salt and sick, and he was hot and freezing at the same time. The only shadow he could make out was Laurent, and Damen couldn’t even say for sure that Laurent was real, but he was something. Damen listened to him, lowering himself back to the ground, then allowed himself to move and shift until his head was in Laurent’s lap.The fact that Laurent was shirtless clued him in that this might not be real.

“Water,” he pleaded. Nikandros was still down, trying to catch his breath, and Paschal was poking at his throat. Fynn ended up fetching the water and he helped lift Damen’s head enough to drink from a silver cup. Damen swallowed it down greedily, downing all of it in a matter of seconds.

Fynn took the cup away and went to fetch more water. Damen coughed wetly, his eyes falling closed as he caught his breath.

“It’s a good thing I listened to you,” Damen rasped. “I took the last boat.”

He turned his face to nestle into Laurent’s thigh and Paschal carefully moved his way over.

“I think we should secure him,” Nikandros grunted out. “We can’t have him falling asleep and waking up like that again—he could push someone into the flames.”

Damen’s eyelids fluttered, his breathing turning shallow again.

“Quickly,” Paschal confirmed with a nod. “I haven’t yet found where he’s bleeding. I think that’s a god sign, but I still need to fix it without being, erm, dispatched."

* * *

Laurent felt much more at use there, under Damen’s head, holding him and assisting him in ways he only felt he’d been in Ios after Kastor wounded him. Laurent was fussing, pushing Damen’s hair out of his face, wiping the corners of his mouth when he sputtered water, when he ran down his chin. He stroked his cheek, gave what warmth he could to Damen though Laurent himself lacked it.

_‘The last boat.’_

Laurent had not even stopped to wonder if any other boats would return, if any had made it to Ios...

What had happened at Ios?

“I’d have had you not left at all,” Laurent corrected Damen softly, still cradling his head, scanning his face. Damen’s eyes swam, unfocused, and Laurent knew he had no grip on reality right now. Not with the way he was starting, moving, speaking. Laurent adjust his blanket so his rear was a little more covered, so he could bring more fabric to the front to use as a pillow Damen could use as he fell back into unconsciousness.

“I can hold his hands,” Laurent offered up, bending mindfully over Damen to clasp his hands, taking a position that could not be held for long, hoping to make a point.

“You can’t,” Nikandros responded gruffly, having had his fill of being hit today. “He’d bat you away like a fly.”

“You cannot tie him up,” Laurent argued fiercely, his stance protective in the way he held Damen, hovered over his body. “I will not let him wake up to that. He would—-“

“It is necessary,” Paschal added in as calmly as he could, but Laurent would not have it.

“/I/ will /hold him/,” Laurent hissed, decided, protective, and without room for a fight. “You /will not/ restrain him.”

Because there was no telling if they would need to run again, if he would need to be free, and Laurent would not do this again without Damen. He would not make this any worse for Damen than it had already been.

* * *

Damen’s brow creased at the sound of Laurent's tone. He couldn’t understand the words, but he knew what it sounded like when Laurent was upset. He felt skin at his cheek, heard the low sound of Laurent’s voice up against his face.

“And what if he hurts you?” Fynn asked calmly, sliding in front of Nikandros before a brawl broke out. “You may not be worried about yourself, but Damianos nearly lost himself when he struck you in the hall.”

That raised Nikandros’s brows. “When he—“

Fynn didn’t want to touch Laurent’s bare back and incite some kind of scandal, but he didn’t know how to handle this mood in him. It was dangerous to leave Damen without restraint, but perhaps worse to make Laurent angry. Damen was Laurent’s most sensitive point, and Fynn wasn’t going to needle him about abandoning him.

“How about Nikandros and I hold him still with cloth,” Fynn offered, picking up a face cloth and wrapping it around his wrist once, not even completely encircling it. “This way we can hold him still, but there will be no actual restraints, and Paschal can look for his wounds.

Damen’s breathing was picking up again, verging on panicked.

“His thigh,” Paschal said suddenly, pointing to a spreading red blot on the blanket loosely draped on Damen’s inner thigh.

“Laurent,” Damen said, frightened. “Where is Cosmas?” He started to fidget. “Laurent?”

Fynn gave Laurent a pleasing look. “We have to let Paschal work in peace."

* * *

Fynn had proven himself bold for this one, and it was a true testament to what their relationship meant to Laurent in the way that Fynn was even allowed to step near Damen right now. And yes, he had made a point about Damen’s desire, how we would probably do anything to not hurt Laurent, but Laurent could not see him /tied down/. Damen was only an animal in Laurent’s teasing - he would not allow them to treat him like one.

His glare settled on Fynn, unwavering, while Laurent thought about how he would handle this. The only thing that kept Laurent from ordering them /all/ out was Damen, his shallow breathing, suddenly picking up.

Laurent’s attention instantly went to Damen, pushing back his hair in little fluid patterns, shushing him and…outright lying when Damen asked about Comas.

“He’s being fed,” Laurent lied so soothingly that Nikandros almost believed him, though he knew that was not the case. The child was merely a tent over.

Nikandros slipped out of the tent quickly, realizing that, though he could say Cosmas was one tent over, he did not know that for sure. In the panic, in the chaos, they’d not checked in the infant in some time, and with his job to protect the royal line, he had to worry about the only heir they had until Laurent could be reasoned with.

“You can hold him when you calm down,” Laurent murmured, pressing another soothing kiss to Damen’s temple. “But you need to calm down, Damianos. You need to breathe.”

See? Laurent could handle him. They did not need to restrain him. Pashcal had survived his blow, Nikandros was clearly well enough to leave, and Fynn was now outnumbered—

Right until the moment Nikandros returned with the sleeping Cosmas.

“Your Majesty,” he spoke directly to Laurent, straight-faced and dull-toned. “The woman needs rest. Might you consider holding the heir to your kingdom while we see that our king survives this night?”

Laurent would see him lashed.

Cosmos stirred, threatened a sniffle, then a whine, and Laurent could have dashed the child onto the ground then and there.

“Give him to me,” Laurent cut, knowing good and well he could not hold Damen /and/ the child, but that was very much their ploy, and where Laurent could risk himself, he could not risk the child and—

Laurent swallowed thickly, suddenly very overwhelmed in a way that almost outed itself as vehement anger because he would not /cry/ over this. Yelling was easier, overturning plates and goblets, /hitting/ someone would have been easier, but with an audience and the pressure of an entire two countries on his back right now?

“Give him to me,” Laurent repeated again, arms out.

* * *

Cosmas was alive. Damen let out a sigh of relief at that, relaxing in Laurent’s lap again. He was sweating all over now, overheated but unable to tell anyone that he wanted his blanket removed. Paschal would not have removed it anyway—Damianos had been in the cold far too long to be back to normal just yet. His body was overcompensating for the cold, and with time he would settle. Or so he hoped.

Nikandros almost regretted bringing Cosmas in (Fynn was looking at him incredulously) but he carefully handed over the child. Cosmas found comfort in the skin-to-skin contact of his cheek against Laurent’s chest and Fynn brought over another blanket, carefully placing it over Lauren’s shoulders like a fine cloak.

Fynn and Nikandros didn’t ask permission before they took positions at Damen’s side, looping cloth around his forearms to prevent him from striking anyone. Paschal spread damen’s legs, carefully settling between his knees to begin investigating the wound.

“Oh dear,” Paschal muttered. Damen had a wood splinter wedged into his thigh—perhaps quite deep. He rummaged in his kit until he found proper tweezers and held them in the ire for several moments to burn away any grime. Then he pinched the piece of wood and held a wad of cloth at the ready.

“Three, two, one—“

Damen let out a low, broken whine as Paschal carefully pulled the splinter from his leg. The piece didn’t seem to end.

“Laurent,” Damen pleaded, and Nikandros gently held down his knee to keep him from kicking anyone again.

Paschal finally extracted the splinter that was almost twice the length of a fountain pen—more like an arrow than a wood piece. He poured water over the wound in an attempt to flush out any residual splinters, then had Fynn hold the cloth in place while he readied a needle and thread.

“Just a few stitches,” Paschal explained. “He is well, Your Majesty."

* * *

Laurent had to give them space, had to take a few paces back in the tent to readjust, to watch from further than Damen could reach if he decided to lash out again. He held Cosmas to his chest, and where he usually would have been grateful for the added blanket to cover him, he hardly cared at that very moment. His eyes were glued to Damen though he held Cosmas in his arms, efficiently restrained himself.

Which made it all the more difficult when Damen called out for him and Laurent could do nothing but speak to him, and even then, Laurent floundered on what to say. His mood was fraught, and it seemed even Damen was not safe from his venom at that moment, as inexplicable as that was to even Laurent.

“Just stay still,” he told Damen, watching the piece of wood as it was pulled…and pulled…and pulled. Laurent was not so sure how it had not pierced all the way through, and had Damen not been such a large man, it certainly would have. Blood poured out as the wooden plug was extracted, catching the firelight and gleaming as Paschal doused it with water. Paschal’s diagnosis hardly registered with Laurent as he stared at the wound.

Damen would be well.

Laurent felt on the verge of overwhelmed again.

It was a sudden mournful feeling that hit him them - a rushed impact straight into his chest that ached terribly. He mourned what had been just mere days ago, when they were happy on the Ios shores with the only issue being the acceptance of their union. And Fynn. He mourned Ios, the people who had responded well to his being there. He mourned this child having a mother, mourned the opportunity to get rid of it, to give it a life that Damen did not understand would have been better.

More than that, he realized, he mourned Damen.

Yes, Damen was there and deemed well, but Laurent knew that was not the case. He had lost everything, and he would be forced to remember that soon enough if he did come to, /when/ he came to. He would have to mourn it all, and Laurent would be there at his side, mourning, mourning…

It did not do him any favours now, this mood of his, but Laurent knew this event would not change or alter based on mood alone.

“Do whatever you have to,” Laurent murmured plainly, jaw set, keeping himself together.


	21. Chapter 21

Paschal made quick work of the stitching up Damen’s wound. Damen made noise the whole time, but when it was finished Nikandros traded out his soiled blanket and tucked him in. He hated seeing his best friend like this for the second time, especially after what had happened with Fynn. They hadn’t spoken much about it, but Damen looked haunted whenever he had to mention it, whenever Nikandros tried to make him talk about it.

Once Paschal applied honey to the wound and dressed it, Nikandros finally allowed himself to get food and water for everyone in the tent. Tiberius was outside looking ashen, but he brightened a little when Nikandros informed him that Damianos was alive and well. Everyone was exhausted through the whole camp, but at least the wind had kicked up from the west, driving the smoke away from Isthima.

Beyond, the mountain still glowed orange. Nikandros wondered if they would even have a home to return to when this was over.

Inside the tent, Fynn offered Laurent water. Damen was asleep again, his breathing finally slowed. Things were finally starting to calm.

“I can hold the child,” Fynn offered. “You should rest with Damianos. You need to sleep, Laurent."

* * *

Laurent’s head pounded with pent up energy, with the need and blatant refusal to cry. He’d not had enough water, not enough food to combat the exhaustion, and with everything so terribly overwhelming on top of it, it was almost unbearable. Every flicker of firelight, every beat of his heart pulsed pain into his temples, behind his eyes.

He /did/ need to sleep, but not more than he needed to be there for Cosmas, for Damen.

Damen was breathing, albeit shallowly, completely stitched and covered, recovering. But that did not make this easier. It did not change what had happened. Laurent still mourned Damen, still dreaded the moment he had to wake up and /remember/.

But the few quiet moments were nice. Everyone was so focused on Damen - and mindful to keep their distance of Laurent - that it was almost as if Laurent had had time alone to think. It hadn’t done him much good without some way to expel the anger and hurt, the anxiety and energy, but at least he’d gotten to breathe. It was when his breathing became choked or wet that he had to stop it, but it was the closest he got to catharsis.

“You are not worried about him striking me /now/?” Laurent asked venomously when Fynn offered him rest, offered him sleep. Laurent did need it, but now did not feel like the time. On top of that, Laurent was in a mood with no resolution. It would not be so easy.

* * *

Fynn was unaffected by Laurent’s scathing tone. He knew that Laurent was probably just worried, scared, and exhausted. The day had taken an enormous toll on everyone. Fynn wasn’t even sure it was the same day anymore.

“Let me take Cosmas back to the woman,” Fynn offered instead. “He is probably hungry again.”

He ignored the insult and smiled tiredly. He didn’t want Laurent to be upset, and sleep would help.

“Nikandros and I will take turns watching in case Damianos needs help. I am sure he would rest better with you beside him now that his injuries are healing. He does rather like sleeping with you, I’m told.” He made an attempt at a wry smile and held his arms out for the sleeping child. It was still strange to see Laurent with a baby when he was so against having his own children.

Damen jerked in his sleep, but his face remained calm. Fynn wasn’t worried.

“We will stand just outside,” Fynn continued. “You two will finally have some privacy.”

He knew Laurent needed it.

* * *

Privacy.

Laurent felt he needed that more than anything else in that moment.

He eyed Fynn for a moment more before begrudgingly handing off Cosmas who instantly began to shift and whine. He was so fussy, had done really nothing but cry and sleep since Laurent had seen him the first time. Cosmas did not even understand what he had to cry about!

Cosmas could have been far away, with Jokaste.  
Somewhere so far away from all of this....

Jokes fell on deaf ears while Laurent battled with the idea of giving Cosmas over, but the fight did not stand for long. Privacy had been promised, and Fynn was correct in his assumption Laurent needed it. He needed to be alone with this more than he could explain.

“I think I held him wrong,” Laurent murmured, watching how gently Fynn cradled the child’s head, supported his back. Laurent had just...held him. He’d had no practice in all of his years, but no one had corrected him, so he supposed he’d not been too far off.

Laurent situated his blanket around him as he stood, wrapped feet padding across the sand to Damen’s side where he lowered himself down to the /ground/. The blanket fell around his frame, the rich red of it stark against his pale skin, even in the firelight. The blanket was heavy, too warm for their placement by the fire, so Laurent shifted it down to his waist, unafraid to show skin in a tent that would only be theirs. He could take the rest of the needed warmth from the still pile of blankets that was Damen.

Laurent laid far enough away to give Damen the space he needed, not wanting to lie atop /his/ blanket and pin him down. But Laurent reached out for him, more subconsciously than anything, and just watched the flickering light dance over Damen’s face.

He would be so upset come morning....

Or whenever they saw the sun again.

“Take care of Cosmas.” Laurent murmured, tucking a stray curl of Damen’s back behind his ear. “I will take care of Damianos.”

* * *

Fynn liked children. He wasn’t sure he would ever have any of his own, but he liked them. Cosmas was the perfect Akielon child, with round cheeks and dark curls accentuating a proud little nose. His blue eyes were striking and rare, something that would garner him favor all his life, Fynnwas sure. He’d somehow garnered favor with the King of Vere, and that surprised Fynn most of all.

“If you had held him wrong, he would have fussed,” Fynn said. “He likes you.” Cosmas hadn’t wailed while in Laurent’s arms.

“Goodnight, Laurent. We’ll all be close,” he said, and then he made his way out, posting a guard at the tent entrance while he went to look for Nikandros.

****

Damen woke some hours later, drenched in sweat but present. He blinked awake, but everything was dark save for the glowing fire that was much lower now. Memories of what had happened hit him all at once, including the swim to shore, the mountain exploding—

Laurent.

Damen rolled to his side, then let out a surprised grunt of pain as searing heat lanced up his thigh. He turned back onto his back, eyes welling up with moisture at the unexpected intensity of the pain. So that must have been was Paschal was fussing with earlier. He didn’t remember much of that part.

“Laurent?” he asked into the darkness, though he knew Laurent was there, he had to be sure. “Do we have any water?”

His throat was burning—it was all he could think about. Everything still tasted of saltwater.

* * *

Laurent found something like sleep many hours after Fynn left, but actual sleep, Laurent never fully allowed himself.

At first, he only stayed awake to hear if Cosmas started to fuss, then he found himself listening for further rumbles, anticipating the ground of Isthima to shake, anything that would prolong even more the chaos they’d suffered through this day. He waited for the sea to lick its way inside of their tent, having crawled up the shore line just to drag Damen back into its depths. He waited for it to bring the bodies of the Akielon men and wen left behind, brought back by their gods just long enough to finish the task of doing away with the two treacherous kings. He waited for Damen to suddenly stop breathing. Any of it seemed possible now.

When the first hour passed without any of the anticipated events, Laurent lost himself to the suffering of allowing his mind to wander, which did - finally- allow him to tear up. He never fully cried about it. In fact, the moment tears welled, Laurent wiped them away immediately, bringing back that unbearable pressure from before.

All signs pointed that he should sleep, that he should have been to sleep hours ago, but he never found it.

He did finally hit a despondent state, when his mind still ran, but his body had exhausted itself too much to do anything. Most of his attention stayed on his hand, which he had moved closer to put on Damen’s chest, just to feel him breathing, to ensure he still did.

And he felt the shift in that breathing when Damen woke up.

“Don’t—“ He tried to warn Damen, but he was too late and Damen had gone and moved.

Laurent pushed on into a sitting position, grateful for something to /do/ that was not sitting in the dark and the quiet and falling victim to his own brain.

“I’m here,” he assured Damen, taking his hand in the soft slow of the dying fire and giving it a squeeze.

With the blanket held about him, Laurent found his footing and crossed the room to the pitcher left for them where he poured Damen a glass of fresh waiter. He thought it wise to bring the whole pitcher with him back across the room. There, he knelt by Damen’s side, offering him the cup and instructing, “Drink slowly. You’ll make yourself sick again.”

* * *

Damen tried to drink slowly, but he couldn’t. He slurped down the cup of water in moments, then brought the whole pitcher to his lips to drink straight from it. His body seemed to finally awaken with fresh water flowing through him, and Damen did find it in himself not to down the whole pitcher in one go. He was breathing hard when he fnished it, finally able to collect his thoughts in the moments he’d been drinking.

Ios was gone. Jokaste was dead. The majority of able-bodied men who had gone to help their people were probably dead too.

He lowered the pitcher and looked over to Laurent. He had almost lost his future husband in the blast. Had almost lost him again when he’d sen him to the sea alone. Laurent’s blonde hair was full of grit, mud, and ash, but he was still there, still healthy.

Damen’s brow furrowed a moment later. “Why…why aren’t /you/ wearing clothes?” he asked. It wasn’t the best question to ask, but it did bother him that he had no idea why Laurent was wearing only a blanket.

“And why are we sleeping on the sand?"

* * *

“I just said—“ Laurent started with a half-hearted murmur, but he knew Damen would not hear it. He took water in like it was air, which Laurent could not completely fathom, but then again, Laurent had not drowned before. He supposed it could leave someone quite thirsty, with the salt and roughness and all. He just knew he would not interfere with Damen finding any sort of comfort he could.

Laurent shifted his blanket, watched Damen warily, just in case he started to choke or anything similar to that.

He didn’t.

But after a few moments, Damen did return Laurent’s gaze, and Laurent held his, not having the energy to do much else but wait for whatever Damen might have to say. Laurent was exhausted, but seeing Damen upright, moving, /talking/ did still seem like such a miracle, that he found a third or fourth wind of energy just watching him.

“My clothes were soaked and you were freezing,” Laurent explained, taking the pitcher from Damen and placing it out of their way, should Damen want to lay back down. “They told me I could not be near you clothed. And Laurent would not have one piece of fabric be what kept him from Damen.

“And this was the closest tent we could carry you to,” Laurent explained further, gesturing around them. The tent was pretty bare bones, with really only a metal pyre, their blankets, and a table over in the corner. It was spacious, but Laurent could not imagine furnishing a tent had been a priority in the scheme of things. Most survivors were sleeping on the sand right now. Laurent had not had the time to demand differently, but he instantly wish he had.

“You should lie back.” Laurent leant forward on his knees to place one hand at Damen’s chest, and the other behind his head, prompting for him to lie flat again, to relax. “I’ll find Paschal, let him know you’re awake, and we’ll have you moved to our proper tent.”

* * *

“Mm, I wish they would tell you that more often,” Damen said, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He couldn’t hear screaming outside the tent, but he knew his people were only just beginning to mourn. Everyone would be despondent for days unless they had a guiding purpose, something to strive for. Damen was just far too exhausted to think of anything. His head was pounding, and his vision swam as he laid back.

“No,” he said quietly, folding his hand over Laurent’s. “I’ll be all right. I’ve slept on the ground plenty of times. I don’t want you to leave.” Bad things happened when they separated, it seemed.

He rested his head on the sand again, trying not to think about how the whole palace was probably gone. There would be no baths to sink into back home, no privacy to wash Laurent and himself of this day. He wasn’t sure how his father would have dealt with this—how any king would.

In that moment though, Damen was just a man. A man who wanted comfort in the arms of his lover, a man who wanted affection and touch in the privacy of a shelter amidst a terrible event.

“You need rest too,” Damen said after a moment. “I won’t let anything happen to you—you’ve earned your sleep.” He wouldn’t be able to stay awake to actually protect him, but Damen felt confident he could fend of any attackers if they struck in the night. He doubted anyone would—they had no reason to here. there was nothing to steal, no real knowledge that the kings were even alive beyond rumors.

“Don’t make me try to stay awake with you. I’m too tired."

* * *

Damen needed to rest, needed to lie back, and yes, he should have proper bedding, proper pillows -a proper fire still burning at the very least, but Laurent could not provide either if Damen did not let him go and fetch someone. They did not have attendants here, did not have anyone who could prioritize them over everything else happening around them. Laurent would never ask them to anyway.

It was not the first time Laurent had slept in the dirt.

“You do not need to stay awake with me,” Laurent murmured to Damen, wrapping his blanket back around his body and lowering himself on the ground next to Damen, closer this time, as he had wanted to be before. He threw his arm out behind Damen’s head, as if that might be any sort of pillow, but Laurent was moving on instinct alone now, his brain too clogged by everything else to think properly.

His free hand moved to Damen’s face, where Laurent just touched for a moment, so /so/ beholden for the /warmth/ he could feel there - the /life/. He’d almost lost Damen. Again.

“You swam the channel attached to a mast,” Laurent murmured in something that sounded so perfectly mixed of awe and judgement. Laurent was always trying to work out the line between Damen’s stupidity and genius…and boldness. “You saved more than a dozen men who would not have made it otherwise. And I only had to drag you back a few yards. Thank you for not forcing me to swim the channel.”

He lifted up just enough to press a kiss to Damen’s lips. Everything about him was still so salty from the sea.

“Rest. Please."

* * *

“I didn’t swim by myself,” Damen murmured in argument, unable to open his eyes, though he wanted to. Laurent’s touch was feather-light on his cheeks, soft and gentle. He didn’t remember much about the swimming to shore except that he had been choking on saltwater and his skin felt like it might flay off even now. And that water had been freeing—it was a wonder none of them had died from the cold.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Damen whispered, lifting a sluggish hand to hold Laurent at his lips, chasing the kiss as best he could while drifting off to sleep again. His whole body was just so tired.

“Come under my blanket,” he offered, lifting his blanket to put over Laurent. “Stay with me. Love me…”

He meant to say more, but sleep took him against his will, leaving his head to loll back into the sand, his fingers falling limp, his body going slack. Damen tried with everything he had to stay awake there with Laurent, but he was hopeless against the force of exhaustion.

But even in sleep he kept his hand over Laurent’s, willing him not to go.

* * *

Laurent was glued there, stuck, unwilling to wake Damen or leave his side. Even though Laurent’s head still ached terribly, he kept his eyes open, watching Damen as he slept, kissing his knuckle every so often.

Outside, Laurent could really only hear the crashing waves. Whatever had happened in Ios had affected the seas, and it sounded like it had crested to a head, but not one came running, screaming. There was a quiet conversation happening somewhere near, a child crying too far away for it to be Cosmas, but that was the whole of Isthima in that moment.

Laurent wondered what time it was.

He wondered if the sun would rise tomorrow as it never had today.

They’d been set up for failure, he and Damen had. No king would have been able to handle this, and to have two so young, two who already had faced enough. Laurent had entered Ios in chains on his first visit, finally had the chance to enjoy it as one of it’s own, and it was gone. Laurent was the one in his bloodline to join Akielos and Vere - to try to, anyway - and Ios has been there. It had been /his/.

He wondered what was left of it.

Laurent couldn’t sleep. Exhausted or not, his mind ran rampant, and anytime he did close his eyes, he opened them not a moment later, paranoid, worried something else would happen. He hated being steps behind something, hated having no plan should something go wrong, but he could not even anticipate what to prepare for! Any small sound could be a new problem to fix, a new disaster to escape.

He had to stay awake. For Damen and for those who were left of Ios, those who called Isthima home. Just in case.

* * *

Damen couldn’t hope to wake up even if he wanted to. His body was dead weight in the sand, unmoving except to seek Laurent in his sleep. He tried to turn a few times, wincing every time he did so. He wanted o bady to pull Laurent to his chest to hold him there, to make sure he was safe. On another level he wanted to know that he was someplace safe, not in the sea. 

Some time later Fynn quietly announced himself at the entryway. He entered with a small breakfast for Laurent, some fruit, almonds, and a glass of juice. Damianos was still asleep, his hair covered in sand, his mouth slightly parted. He looked healthier. 

“You haven’t slept,” Fynn noted immediately. “You must /rest/ Laurent.” He set the food down on a small tray beside Laurent so he wouldn’t have to move. He knew Laurent wouldn’t be away from Damen unless he had to be. 

“Has he woken yet?” Fynn asked with a nod to Damen. “Or has he been asleep this whole time?"

* * *

It must have been ‘morning’ - or something like it. The tent walls were thick, and Laurent had not noticed any stream of light enter with Fynn. He pushed up on his elbows to greet Fynn, more than happy to just have some company in this. Company that came to him, for he had no intentions of leaving Damen’s side for long. He did not even mind that Fynn went straight in to telling him what to do.

“He woke a few hours ago,” Laurent whispered, not wanting to wake Damen if he did not have to, but that did not stop him from reaching over and pushing Damen’s hair out of his face. “He was confused, at first, but he fell back to sleep before anything struck him too hard.”

Laurent pulled his eyes away from Damen and placed them on Fynn. It felt like an exercise - a strain, as if his eyes were fighting him. Like they wanted nothing more than to close.

“Is it morning?” Laurent asked. “Is there sun? Are others waking? How is the weather?”

What did he need to be prepared for?

* * *

“I don’t think it’s night any longer, but there is no sun,” Fynn said with a frown. The smoke was still thick, but only in the sky. Thankfully it was raining soot and ash on them as it had last night. He didn’t think he would ever get clean.

“People are awake, but none truly slept,” Fynn continued. Damen shifted in his sleep, nuzzling into Laurent’s hand. It was almost sickening how in love they were, how Laurent so obviously cared and loved, and how protective Damen was of him. Fynn tried not to be jealous.

He sat down in the sand beside Laurent and folded his arms in his lap.

“Tiberius has been handling things quite well, and Cosmas is content with the woman . NIkanros is assisting in leading the response effort, and all appears to be well for the moment.” As well as it could be, of course. There was nothing to do until the smoke cleared and they could return to Ios. And there was no telling how long that would take.

“We will be here for a few more days before we can safely return to Ios,” Fynn explained. “So I suggest you rest. A tent has been prepared close by, but Paschal warned me not to wake Damianos. He should sleep, as should you. We have things handled, Laurent."

* * *

Laurent knew there would be an attempt at talking him down from all of this, and he did not interrupt Fynn through it. The information of what was happening outside the tent was appreciated, but something Laurent felt he deserved.

“How would you expect me to sleep when I am meant to be their second king, and the first is unreachable in his recovery?” Laurent asked, not with great bite, but with a weariness no twenty-one year old should have. “I need to be available to this, and shoe them I am…worthy of the home they just lost.”

Laurent thumbed once more at Damen’s cheek before letting his hand fall back into his own blanket-covered lap.

“I need to watch his people for him. While he can’t. And he should not be expected to like this.”

He turned his tired gaze back to Fynn, did not attempt at a smile or any reassurance. He had none to give in that moment. Exhaustion aside, his head was overrun with thoughts about it all, about what he could possibly do to fix it.

“When will you rest?” he asked instead, turning the attention off himself.

* * *

“They know you are with Damianos,” Fynn assured Laurent. “I think many of them can understand why you would not want to part from the man you love after all of this. Many of them probably wish they had their lovers to embrace.” It was harsh, but it was the truth. He had seen so many grieving people—so few had survived with their families intact.

“I already rested,” Fynn countered, not playing that game. “Nikandros and I slept in shifts to ensure someone was always on watch.”

Damen coughed softly, murmuring something incomprehensible in what sounded like Veretian when Laurent’s hand fell away.

“I do not mean to offend, but you are not watching anyone except Damianos right now,” Fynn said. “Nikandros and Tiberius are in charge of these people—that is how Akielos works. Damen has been gone for months—years in the case of Isthima—and they have managed everything just fine.”

He put a hand on Laurent’s knee, giving one last attempt to get him to listen.

“What the people want most is for Damianos to be alive, and he will hardly be so if he wakes up to find that you’ve wasted away watching him sleep. Eat breakfast, then /rest/. I say that as your friend and your advisor."

* * *

Harsh truths were what Laurent needed. As Laurent had suspected, he had no authority here. Sure, he could still make himself a presence, remind the people he was there, but at the end of the day, he was inconsequential to all of this. There was nothing he could do for Akielos that it was not already doing for itself. If something were to happen to Damen, perhaps a small argument could be made for him from the few who still deferred to the gods’ way of union, but Laurent doubted a single person would vouch for him. Even Nikandros would probably fall to the laws of Akielos - would give the kingdom to Cosmas, let the Kyroi rule until he was of age.

He could not even use the excuse that he needed to stay awake to focus on Vere. If Isthima still stood, mostly unaffected by the explosion at Ios, then Vere would be fine, and Laurent did not need someone to tell him that.

Laurent set his eyes on Fynn’s hand, placed atop his knee, and he realised that the best thing he could do was just take care of Damianos. He’d always wanted the opportunity to be a lover, to set his royalty aside for a time and just dote, and he supposed...he /could/.

It was not as exciting in this context.

Laurent had no excuses left not to rest, having been effectively told he was useless here, so he nodded, and he dropped the guise he’d been carrying all night and morning. His shoulders slumped, he held his face in his hands, and he rubbed at his temples before lifting his eyes again and regarding Fynn.

“We were supposed to be travelling to Marlas tomorrow,” Laurent murmured dully, dropping his knees to cross his legs beneath the blankets, his arms plopped down between them. “I was to be married the day after.” In two days time, Laurent /could/ have been the king Akielos needed right now.

“Is there nothing else I can do?”

* * *

Fynn could at least relax in knowing he’d secured this victory. He didn’t like making Laurent feel worse about the situation, but those were the facts. Laurent wasn’t yet king here, and Damen was hardly capable of making any kinglydecisions in his current state. Beyond that, Nikandros was doing an excellent job aat keeping things together. The citizens of Akielos didn’t even seem that upset that their king was no around.

Perhaps that was dangerous, but for now Fynn decided to ignore it.

“You are doing plenty,” Fynn assured. He felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of Laurent feeling useless—it wasn’t that at all. “Right now Damianos needs you. When he wakes, he will need help moving around—perhaps the smoke will have cleared more and you can walk together to survey the people. THat would be good for everyone, I think.”

Fynn offered a reassuring smile.

“You are doing well, Laurent. Eat, drink, sleep. That is what is needed of you now. The wedding will come in time--Marlas may be untouched. Extra time for preparation will only be welcomed by those preparing. I know my father will arrive overjoyed that he will have time to laze about until you and Damianos arrive.

* * *

Laurent did not seem so convinced, but if nothing else, it was a task. Care for Damen. It was something he loved to do, though he preferred it when he could convince Damen of a higher caliber of injury than he actually had, when the stakes were low and Laurent could merely laze the day away at Damen’s side.

“See that Cosmas is well,” Laurent did say to Fynn, wanting /some/ authority here, wanting to give his people orders so he was helping somewhere. “And - do not send Nikandros - but Korus was in one if those tents-“ He pointed to the right. “I would like him to be seen. He looked...”

Terrible. He’d looked horrid. It had surpassed what Laurent had ever intended for him, but perhaps he could take some solace in the boi being recognisable.

“I would haha Paschal before I rested as well,”  
Laurent added. “I would like him to look at Damianos’ wound, to be certain all was well with it. I would rest better with that knowledge.”

* * *

Fynn could not argue with that. He dismissed himself and headed off in search of Cosmas and Paschal. He was not so concerned about Korus. that would be a mission he undertook himself, to save both Nikandros and Laurent from that ordeal. He would be nicer than Nikandros would be. Probably. Maybe.

Cosmas was fussing when Fynn found him, with Paschal already tending to him with a bit of honey.

“His throat is irritated from the smoke,” Paschal explained to the woman—Dierdre. She looked as concerned as any mother, stroking Cosmas’s dark curls and bouncing him in her arms. “Keep a cloth over him as best you can—I’m afraid that if all we can do until the smoke clears.”

Fynn cleared his throat. “His Majesty would like to see you,” he announced.

Pachal nodded, gathering his bag and following Fynn out of the tent.

They returned to Laurent and Paschal immediately moved over to Damianos. He knew why he had been called.

The wound din’t look pleasant, but it wasn’t infected. Paschal applied honey and explained to Laurent that Damen needed to keep his wound away from the sand, if possible.

“And you need rest,” he said. “Damianos is in no danger now.”

Fynn gave Laurent a knowing smirk. /Told you./

* * *

Laurent remained seated upright as his company came and went. He’d not drifted off yet, but with Fynn’s given realisation, he could not guarantee he would not now, and until he had the clearance from Paschal, until he heard Damen was well, he needed to stay awake, alert, at the rest to help however he could.

He busied himself with Damen’s hair, petting it back away from his face, a smooth, practiced rhythm that ideally would only help to soothe him, to keep him quiet, resting.

When Paschal did show himself, Laurent whispered to Damen to ‘rest’, to ‘relax’. He assured him it was only Paschal, that he needed to stay asleep, needed to rest, that they were only checking his injury. Laurent, of course, moved with Paschal to see the injury, noted how angry and red it looked, but what could he do? He’d merely been instructed to keep sand out of it, and when Damen was only one thin blanket from the sand, Paschal had pretty much just successfully glued Laurent to his spot, made sure there was nothing he could do.

Laurent met Fynn’s gaze, quite unamused.

“Nikandros should see him,” Laurent decided then, and it became quite clear he was just giving himself excuses to stay awake, just in case something should happen, something—

“Your highness,” Paschal spoke up respectfully. “Damianos can only rest. The more visitors he has, the more we risk in disturbing him. You both should be asleep, if I might give my opinion.”

Laurent had not asked for it.

“I will return in a few hours’ time to inspect him once more, but for now, I must see to our survivors. There are many Veretians that do not understand the Akielon physicians. I am needed by them.”

And it was Laurent’s duty to see them cared for.

So he dismissed Paschal with a wave, sat for a moment more before saying to Fynn, “Thank you. For assisting me with this. And for speaking straight with me. It is...appreciated.”

* * *

“Nikandros is fine,” Fynn assured Laurent. “He sin’t even in a horrible mood, last I checked.” He had no injuries beyond the cuts ad scrapes everyone had. Trying to get him to stop working to be seen by a physician would be a hopeless task, much as it was getting Laurent to rest. But Fynn was slowly winning that battle.

Once Paschal was gone, silence settled between them again. Fynn nodded when Laurent spoke to him, once again grateful that he had Laurent as a friend. A true friend, and that he was a true advisor to such a powerful king. Auguste really would have been proud of the man his little brother had become.

“That is my role,” he said. “And I hope to continue allowing you to see when you are being foolish.”

With a smirk, he took Laurent’s breakfast plate and headed for the entrance.

“I will have two guards posted out front. Should anything happen, I will find my way to you. Once I find Korus, I will stay close, just in case.”

With that, he left the tent in search of the attempted murderer pet.

Back inside the tent, Damen was half awake, but not planning to wake fully. He was aware of pain in his thigh, but for some reason he also knew not to worry about it.

“Sun’s not up yet,” he murmured in drowsy Veretian. “Come t'bed."

* * *

Laurent had not expected Damen to be awake, and he nearly chastised him the moment he proved to be so - however lightly he clung to it. But Laurent could not blame him with how he’d just been moved, with the conversations happening around him.

“I am not certain when the sun /will/ come up,” Laurent murmured, finally sliding down to his side, mindful not to flick up any sand or the like onto their blanket bed. He settled as close to Damen as he dared, hand on his chest, thumbing at his sternum.

“Go back to sleep,” Laurent urged him quietly, not yawning but a moment after he said it. Laurent was equally ready to sleep, knew he should have hours ago, and had it not been for Fynn, he would probably still be fighting it. But his place here was not to fight it any longer. He had to rest, if for Damen at the very least.

Damen was as warm as a hearth, beneath the blankets, but naked as Laurent was, it was a welcome heat. He was much too tired to complain about it anyway. Besides, the unseasonal weather had brought about a strange temperature he did not mind shying under the blankets from. And he never minded being by Damen’s side.

Laurent drifted off not long after, succumbing to the exhaustion of the day, tucked right up against Damen as he had been when this all started.

* * *

Damen was not so cautious. He bundled Laurent closer, annoyed that he couldn’t rest on his side but allowing it just this once. He could feel Laurent’s weight on his chest, welcome and warm. Damen pressed a chaste kiss to Laurent’s hair and then he was asleep again, snoring quietly into the smoky air of the tent.

When he woke next, it was still dark. His throat was dry and burning, his body stiff and sore. He lifted his head, momentarily confused that there was sand in his hair. Right. Isthima.

The weight of what had happened didn’t fully settle on him, but he wasn’t sure it ever would. He simply could not fathom that Ios was gone. Surely there was some of it left. The palace was strong, built to withstand wars. Surely it was still standing at least in some places.

He let his head fall back to the sand. He might’ve slept for two full days, for all he knew. But he was rested, as well rested as one could be in such a state.

Even so, he didn’t stir for fear of waking his partner notorious for being a light sleeper. Laurent needed rest, and Damen was not going to be the one to wake him. So he rested his cheek against the crown of Laurent’s head and closed his eyes. again,

At least the camp sounded quiet.

* * *

Laurent could not have been woken if the world began to shake again, it could be certain. Light sleeper though he was, the stress and weight of the day before had absolutely taken a toll on him, and having forced himself to stay awake longer than he should have? He would be useless for hours. And that showed. Usually, with ramen merely stirring, Laurent would have caught on, whether it be to the movement or the slight change in breathing, but Laurent did not take to anything. He just laid there, curled into Damen, out cold.

He did not even stir when Nikandros entered some time later, bringing in with him two plates of food, a stack of papers that listed those survivors on the island, both Veretian and Akielon alike. He’d expected one of them to be awake by now, but he supposed he could not be all that surprised to see neither were.

He had merely hoped they would be to make his life easier.

“Fynn,” he murmured when he exited, finding Fynn easily enough as he had been really the only one on the Veretian side Nikandros had been working with since their kings has been indisposed. “The Veretian council is demanding their King, and I cannot be the one to wake him.” Laurent would murder him outright, and he knew that to be the truth. “I’d more easily risk you than myself.”

* * *

Fynn wan’t far off, conversing with Lazar, who had been found several hours ago marooned at sea in a small raft. He was distraught, as Pallas had no yet been found. Fynn wasn’t the best person to comfort others, but he did his best. Lazar needed a warm fire, and Fynn had found him one, complete with warm broth to sip on while he recovered.

“You’ve forgotten about Damianos, then,” Fynn chuckled. /He/ is the one apt to kill, and it takes even Laurent a few inflicted punches before he can be called off.”

But he stood, patting Lazar’s shoulder as he did so.

“I suppose I’m used to doing things the Akielons cannot,” he teased as he passed Nikandros, shooting him a smirk.

He slipped into the tent without another word and moved over to a sleeping Lauren. He looked so peaceful…Fynn had never seen him so calm. So at peace. It seemed like it would be a crime to wake him, but Laurent would be furious if he overslept for the council.

“Laurent,” Fynn said, gently touching his shoulder and giving it a shake.

“Laurent, your beloved council demands your presence.”

“He is a king,” Damen growled, startling Fynn so badly that he fell back on his heels. He hadn’t realized Damen was awake. “He can attend the council when he is good and ready. He needs /rest/."

* * *

“What are you growling about?” Laurent mumbled himself not a beat later. He’d not been awake, but he /felt/ Damen growl under where his head was rested, and he supposed he felt safe enough to lie still, as he did not jump. He had not even realized Fynn had touched him, did not even notice his presence until he did come to enough to sense someone behind him.

Laurent turned fast, awake, as if he had, in fact, slept through something catastrophic he needed to be there for— but upon seeing Fynn crashed onto his rear in the sand, Laurent felt more than safe.

He fell back to the blanket, arm tossed over his eyes. A headache had splintered right through his temple the very moment he moved.

Wonderful.

“I need clothes,” Laurent said to Fynn, strained and hoarse. He had only slept for a few hours at best, but Laurent would not shirk duty in a time of crisis merely to sleep. Even if he did have a splitting headache, Damen to take care of, and—

Damen was awake.

“How are you feeling?” Laurent asked, and though it made him nauseous to move, he did so, pushing up on weak arms to feel Damen’s forehead, his cheeks, checking for the warmth of a feverish infection.

* * *

  
Damen loathed that Laurent had been woken in such a way when he clearly needed to rest. He was an easily startled king when sleeping, always prepared for an assassin. Damen doubted he would be able to get Laurent to rest in such a way for at least a week.

“I brought a small trunk in last night,” Fynn said. “Unfortunately you will either have to dress in a chiton or try to fit in a grossly oversized outfit belonging to Mathe, who brought his clothes with him on the boat. I’m sure he would love the chance at you owing him one.”

He smiled, regaining his footing.

“Lie down,” Damen soothed, completely ignoring Fynn. “I am well.” He had a horrific headache and his leg was throbbing, but he had been through worse.

“Thirsty,” he added, and Fynn graciously took the hint to fetch some water.

“You can’t go out there,” Damen said flatly once he had a chalice of water in hand. It felt like honey in his throat, delivering him from the wretched dryness. “Not until you’ve eaten a proper meal—I know you haven’t."

* * *

“I do not need to eat to address my council,” Laurent assured Damen, not wanting to snap at Damen after he’d nearly died. He would give that a few hours yet. Laurent was still exhausted, but not enough to be a complete prick to Damen. “It will be quick, let them see I am..working on this, and then I can dismiss them until a time where I am rested.”

That would not be how it happened, but Laurent could justify saying that just to keep Damen from worrying.

“I’ll take the chiton,” Laurent said to Fynn, moving things along so that - whatever it might be that would happen - it could happen quickly and he could find himself back in bed. His council would not be so lucky as to skip the snapping Damen had been spared of.

“You should drink more water,” Laurent said, urning back to Damen, doing his best to handle all of this while his brain was still quite scattered. “I’ll be back before Paschal can make it to you."

* * *

“I would appreciate it if you did,” Damen tried, letting out a sigh. He wasn’t going to win this one and he knew it. Fynn retrieved a chiton and offered it to Laurent while Daen gingerly sat up. His back aches from sleeping on lumpy sand, and he longed for the cushions of his bedchamber in Ios, the smell of the sea faint and not so fishy.

The blankets were crusty from saltwater and Damen tried not to grimace as he lifted his blanket off of him. he needed a bath. Of course he knew his entire world was destroyed outside, but he wanted a goddamn bath. He was a king, and he quite honestly didn’t think he deserved to sleep another minute in the sand.

“Here,” Fynn said once Laurent was dressed. He offered him an apricot, perfectly ripe and unbruised. “It will help you feel better, i promise.”

Nothing could rehydrate a parched body like fresh fruit from Akielos. Fynn had seen the effects many times.

“I will tell Nikandros to ready your new chambers,” Fynn said to Damen with a bow of his head. “I will send him in to see you.”

Fynn offered his arm to Laurent. His own clothing was nothing but a ratty linen tunic and pants, but they made quite the pair in his opinion. The council looked much worse. Damen must have known they looked good too, because he was shooting daggers from where he sat with his knotty nest of hair and sand-soiled skin.

“Shall we?”

A king couldn’t simply show up unattended.

* * *

Laurent didn’t want to leave, but the idea that he may return to chambers was quite nice. He would need to sleep a few years more to make up for the stress this past days - these past few days? - had presented them. To be in a bed with Damen sounded much needed as well. He was well enough to stare disapprovingly, so he must be well enough to lie in bed with Laurent, work if they needed to from there. He had some sort of wits about him.

“Do not try to stand before Nikandrs arrives,” Laurent warned and, before he could go, he leant down and pressed a kiss to Damen’s forehead. “We’ve a lot to discuss,” he murmured before he straightened up and headed out of the tent.

Laurent had only just finished his apricot when everyone was assembled together. It seemed most of his council had made it, and Laurent could imagine it was for the same reason Mathe’s clothing had: priorities. Mathe was the only one who held up his Veretian excessiveness in a time of despair, while the others wore tattered remnants of what they must have been wearing during the escape. All but Vannes, of course, who had adopted the Akielon style of a long dress, similarly worn to a chiton, but not at all Veretian. Jeurre by far looked the worst, as if he had actually been keeping busy since their arrival at Isthima, and Cylan, well…he never looked well anymore, did he?

“Your Majesty,” Mathe took the lead, eyes moving between Fynn and Laurent in a way that was calculating, but honestly, Laurent could not bother himself with that right now. “We should return to Arles immediately. There is no telling what could have—“

“Arles is fine,” Laurent interrupted calmly, flicking his apricot seed away. “Isthima still stands, and Arles is much further away than that. Marlas may need attention, I agree, but we’ve men there already that can see to that. Ios should have our full attention now.”

“Ios is not ours to attend,” Cylan spoke up, and Laurent had to admit, he was impressed Cylan had. The man had been silent since Laurents punishing of him, hadn’t the gall to speak out. It was just a shame he spoke out so foolishly.

The council looked at Laurent, expectantly. Laurent who had, for all intents and purposes, meant to move on past that without a second thought, But that was not what they wanted of him, it seemed.

“This hardly feels like a time for jokes,” Laurent replied flatly, “and if that was the intention of this meeting, then I will see myself away until you have all rested, moved past hysteria, and are willing to discuss what had happened as the council to the kings of Vere /and/ Akielos.”

“You’ve not had to deal with destruction before,” Mathe took over. “We are here to advise as well as enact, my lord. You cannot so easily dismiss us in a time of—“

“You’re dismissed,” Laurent replied matter-of-factly, having not even sat for this meeting.

“Your majesty—“ Jeurre spoke up this time. “Perhaps we should have this discussion once you have rested. You do not look well.”

“Should I have prepared myself to look better in a fallen city?” Laurent asked, and though his council and he had been at odds, this seemed like a brand new sort of disagreement. “Perhaps Mathe should have brought /my/ clothing, instead of his own.”

It shut them up just ing enough that Laurent could leave, and even as he did, he did not feel his usual disinterest in dismissing his council, and maybe that alone was because Vannes had not spoken in his favour. Jeurre had even spoken out against him, and he was nothing if not loyal to the crown. He felt the same unease now that he’d felt when he’d heard speculation of the gods’ involvement in the destruction of Ios.

He needed to rest before he tried to unpack any of that.

* * *

Damen didn’t realize he was disoriented until he tried to leave the tent with Nikandros. HIs chiton was loose, but he felt sick to his stomach when he stood, blinking in the darkness. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was, the smoke was still so thick. Damen assumed it was night, but only because he had never experienced the sun being shaded in such a way except in the wine cellars beneath the palace.

Nikandros didn’t keep him outside for long. Tiberius quickly joined them, offering Damen crutches (which he ignored) and informed him that a much better tent had been set upfor them, one with actual beds and silk sheets. Damen didn’t bother to make appearances that he didn’t want a nicer tent.

He didn’t think he’d ever been so exhausted before. His body was shaking by the time he got to the other tent, and it wasn’t long before he was vomiting into a bin. His watery sick smelled like saltwater.

But they did have a sturdy bed, high ceilings, and brasiers to keep them warm if the temperature cooled. Incense burned to attempt to mask the scent of the smoke and sane (and now his vomit) and Nikandros arrived not long after with a weary but goodnatured Leopold.

“Exalted,” he greeted. “Pardon my tardiness, I believe I was on the wrong beach."

Damen tried to smile, but the room was spinning. Nikandros steadied him, guiding him to sit on the bed.

Instead of pulling for medicine, Leopold instructed Nikandros to find him several different foods: oranges, bread, butter. to settle the stomach.

Damen felt absolutely horrible, but the water was helping. Sort of.

“You were dragged across the sea, or so I hear,” Leopold chuckled, dabbing his forehead with a damp cloth. “The sea does terrible things to the body in such a context."

* * *

Everywhere about the beach, there was mourning. With hours having passed of nothing catastrophic occurring, people were finally able to slow down, finally able to begin the processing of their losses.

Some people sat along the shoreline, staring out over the waves as if waiting for someone to surface, as if looking for someone swimming across the bay that would never show. Others sat outside their tents, still staring at the sky as if the moon or sun might peak through at any point and rid them if this nightmare. But more than that, people were inside their tents, hiding away from it all, resting, crying.

Jord was sat outside of his tent, keeping watch over the expanse of the beach for anyone that may be in need of Veretian help. Lucien was undoubtedly inside, resting as Jord would have instructed him to. Jord rose straight to his feet when he saw Laurent, but Laurent raised his hand, waved him down. He was in no need now.

“Did you hear my council?” Laurent asked Fynn as they continued down the beach, past the tent where he and Damen had been resting earlier this day...or night. “Can you believe—“

“Your Majesty.”

Laurent turned to see Paschal, trailing behind them but catching up.

“Your Majesty, you were to be /resting/,” Paschal sighed, hurrying up to Laurent’s side. “Herzog, I should hope—“

“I am headed to rest,” Laurent tried to reassure Paschal, motioning to Fynn at his side. “The Herzog is escorting me to my tent.”

Paschal did not seem pleased, but he knew when and when not to argue with Laurent. He did follow them, however, mainly to see that he could check on Damianos, but also to make sure that to the kings’ tent was exactly where they were going.

“Leopold,” Laurent greeted as he stepped inside the /much nicer/ tent. Even in its basic Akielon fashion, it almost felt Veretian compared to their last. It smelled of braziers and oil and something acrid, but what didn’t right now? “You seem like just the person he needed to see.”

Damen looked practically green, laying out on his back, visibly ill and weak. Laurent tried to stay calm in the face of such an audience.

* * *

Fynn didn’t get a chance to speak to Laurent about the council, but he was furious with them for attacking Laurent in such a way. He didn’t see why the council would be again the union of Akielos and Vere—the gold in Akielos was probably double that of Vere, and the resources were much more. Akielos was to teh sea on two sides, with access to just about every important kingdom.

But Damen /was/ a sorry sight when they entered the new tent. He looked almost worse than after he’s come ashore. Fynn greeted Leopold with a nod, grateful for another familiar face.

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” Leopold chuckled. “I don’t mean to laugh, but the Exalted is not as bad as he looks. He merely filled himself with too much water before deciding to move to his feet.”

Fynn knew the feeling. He’d experienced storms where he’d swallowed a lot of seawater. That never ended well.

“I have more experience than most with this sickness, and a strict adherence to a diet of fruit, buttered bread, and /some/ fresh water will fix him up in half a day’s time. Perhaps a full day, judging by his adventures.” Leopold wasn’t worried. Damen simply had a fragile stomach.

“Once his belly settles, he will regain his illustrious strength, Your Majesty. You need not worry."

* * *

Oh, that was all wonderful news. Probably the best news Laurent had heard since being brought to Isthima.

“And what of his leg?” Laurent asked, moving to the bed to sit beside Damen, running his hand over Damen’s forehead, up into his hair where the curls usually would have floofed back into place, but they had no such luck today. They both needed to bathe.

“His leg will heal well enough,” Paschal spoke up, stepping up to Leopold and clapping him on the back. “You have finally decided to take your charge back?” He asked, and both old men had a laugh of that. “I took the utmost care of him, I do promise,” Paschal told Leopold. “My king made sure of it.”

Laurent was fine and had not needed the care. He had not been vehemently denying it or anything like that…..

“You look horrible,” Laurent said to Damen in a tone so fond it almost sounded like a compliment. “Truly. You’re nearly as pale as I am."

* * *

Damen could hardly pay attention to the room, he felt so awful. Leopold had forced him to eat some pieces of bread and a slice of orange, but sitting up was surely going to make him vomit it all out again. He was still so thirsty, but Leopold wouldn’t allow him to drink more than a few sips of water at a time.

“Shut up,” Damen muttered, brow creasing as he fought another wave of nausea. But he reached out, gently gripping the fabric at Laurent’s hip to keep him close.

“I expected you to be gone an hour,” he murmured. “Is it good or bad that you’re back so quickly?” He hadn’t believed him when he’d said he’d be back before Paschal could find him, but here they were.

Fynn wasn’t so worried about Damen. If he was to be honest, he felt Damen was acting a big childish about all of this. Seawater was a mighty foe, but it had been something like a full day since he’d been taken out of the water. Other people weren’t getting nearly as good of care and they were making it out just fine.

“But perhaps it would be a good idea to ensure Laurent is well,” Fynn interjected. “If only so I can further disappoint the council."

* * *

Laurent did not give a straight answer as to how his council meeting had gone. Instead, he took Damen’s hand at his hip, gave it a squeeze, and just let the moment pass to even speak about it. He had no interest in speaking about it, had not even wanted it brought up. He certainly could not tell Damen what they had said, and he wouldn’t until they had time to think about it, until he could right their thinking.

“I do not need to take Paschals’ time,” Laurent dismissed, “He will tell me I need to rest—“

“That it is /imperative/ you rest,” Pashcal corrected politely, but Laurent had already shown fondness towards Damianos in their company, so he did not truly fear him at this moment. “And I need to rebandage your feet.”

Laurent supposed he could allow that.

“I think you are freed from my side,” Laurent told Fynn as Paschal propped up his king’s foot, carefully undid the bandages Laurent had given no care to preserve. “This may take some time, and I do plan to rest after.” To which he did add, “I promise."

* * *

Damen did not appreciate that Laurent had been at Fynn’s side in public /again./ Damen was supposed to be out there with his people, he was supposed to be the one going to council meetings and showing the face of strength in this.

Instead he was resigned to a bed, unable to so much as sit up. Though he did have to admit that the bread and honey was helping.

As if able to listen to his thoughts, Leopold approached with slices of fruit laden with honey, and more buttered bread.

“I think it is time everyone leaves us,” Damen growled.

“Not until you’ve eaten,” Leopold said. “Respectfully,” he tacked on a moment later.

Nikandros poked his head into the tent and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Fynn.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, quickly looking over Damen. The sight of Leopold holding bread to his mouth would have been comical if their homeland hadn’t just been destroyed.

“I need your help with a few things,” he said. “Can you leave them?”

“He can,” Damen supplied with a mouth full of bread.

Fynn gave him an apologetic look. “I was just leaving.”

He dipped his head to Laurent, trying his best to convey that the council was nothing to worry about. In all truth, they had no way of preventing Laurent and Damen from marriage if that was what they truly wanted for each other. And by now he knew that Laurent did indeed want that.

The physicians didn’t leave right away. Leopold was making sure Damen ate.

Damen was a bit raw from it all.

“You really have to go with him everywhere?” he snapped. He swallowed down some honey covered peach slices and coughed weakly when they tickled his throat.

“He’s been following you around since...Arles, really.”

* * *

“I was with him for all of a half hour, Damen,” Laurent replied curtly, unwilling to let /that/ be what they focused on right now. “Outside of that, he has seen me as often as Nikandros - /your advisor/ - has seen you.” Laurent switched out his feet for Paschal, who began to undress the other and clean out the sand as he could. It did not hurt Laurent, barely even tickled enough to hold his attention, but he had to look /somewhere/.

“Fynn assisted with saving my life. Yours as well.” Laurent reached over to Leopold and stole one of the sliced peaches from the platter, popped it into his mouth. It had not been to kill time, but Laurent took forever to chew it as exhaustion kicked in to even his jaw. “This is hardly something to worry yourself with now.”

Laurent had only been at Damen’s side /every/ hour up until the moment he needed to speak with his council. He would not allow Damen’s doubt to sit atop everything else right now.

“You should keep eating,” he did say instead. “Soak up that water.”

Paschal tied the bandage around Laurents foot and gave him a light tap, signifying he was done. Laurent brought his feet up to the bed - and /oh/! How had missed a bed! - and laid down on his side, watching Damen be fed. Laurent had no idea how Damen could still be worried about Fynn at a time where he’d been seen ill and unwell by people outside of his physician.

Damen was, as always, fascinating.

* * *

“Nikandros wasn’t trying to marry me a month ago,“ Damen growled. And he hated that now Laurent thought he owed his life to /Fynn/. He had made it to shore just find without a Kemptian duke meddling in his escape efforts.

Damen did as told, until Leopold had fed him two slices of buttered bread and a whole honeyed peach. His throat felt better, and his stomach had indeed settled. But he didn’t dar to sit up and ruin it all. His eyes were still itchy and hot from the nausea. He was grateful when Laurent joined him.

“How are your feet?” he asked quietly, looking over at him. He didn’t want to argue about Fynn when Laurent had nearly been lost to him just a day ago.

“And how are you feeling?”

He felt as though Laurent had been gone from him for so long. He’d stayed alive in the ocean thinking only of him, of making it though to see Laurent again, to keep his promise. To make sure Laurent didn’t kill himself searching for him.

“I don’t remember much,” Damen admitted. “I think most of what I do remember is what you told me."

* * *

“Oh, was that when I told you to come back or I would come after you?” Laurent asked, grateful they were talking about /them/ and no one else.

Feeling a little more welcomed, Laurent moved to his side a little closer to Damen, nestled his head into the pillow, his arm tucked beneath for a bit of support.

“I meant what I said,” Laurent went on, reaching out to touch Damen’s arm, trace the vein that ran up his forearm. “I even tried, when you were brought closer to shore. Paschal says the salt water helped my feet.” Laurent didn’t know if that was true, but he would not argue with a physician when what he said supported one of Laurent’s more reckless decisions. To have jumped out into the sea knowing well he could not swim was not his most thought out decision.

“And I feel much better than you do.”

Laurent did know that to be true. Even with his exhaustion, he had only known nausea on the ship over and not since. Throbbing headaches were a different story, but the apricot Fynn had brought him and certainly helped, just as much as the sliced peach from a moment ago had.

He laid there for a moment, tracing the vein in Damen’s arm back down to his wrist, momentarily transfixed on how - even now - life still flowed about Damen’s body.

“Two children found you and your men,” Laurent whispered. “They were playing in the waves and saw the mast. Even in the chaos, they all ran to help...”

* * *

Laurent’s touch was cool on his skin, allowing Damen a chance to relax. As long as he could feel Laurent with him, he knew things would be that much easier. They could tackle this impossible task as one and until the smoke cleared they could be together without too much judgement. If the smoke ever cleared.

“I’m getting better,” Damen assured him quietly. he didn’t believe for a second that saltwater could help Laurent’s battered feet, but he was not abut to undo his fresh bandages to check. Damen’s feet were in bed shape even with new dressing, but he supposed they didn’t hurt so bad either, so perhaps the ocean was capable of something other than destruction.

“They would have done the same for you, if that is what you are trying to say,” Damen murmured. He turned his palm, gently cupping Laurent’s chin. “Citizenship and rank do not matter in a time like this.”

He was confident in that. Laurent would not have been left to die if it was him on that beach.

“I know I tell you often, but I love you,” Damen said suddenly. “I cannot imagine what I would have done if anything happened to you in all of this.I’m terrified I could still…that I could still lose you somehow.”

He turned his head to better see Laurent, as if to confirm it was really him.

“I need you to take care of yourself. To rest and eat and drink water. Promise me. I mean it—promise me that you will."

* * *

‘Citizenship and rank did not matter in a time like this.’ Laurent supposed that was as meaningful as Fynn’s words about him had been, and it was nice to see that juxtaposition in the way he was spoken to by the both of them. That’s why he liked having Fynn around - to tell him the truth, to break through the same thick skull that seemed to be inherited through his bloodline. And then there was Damen, who loved Laurent so dearly, he broke through that same wall with care and affection and bias. Whether he knew he had or not.

Certainly everyone had tried to rest, both noble and citizen alike at this point. He officially had no reason not to try himself.

Properly, this time.

“I will rest,” Laurent promised Damen, turning his head to kiss the inside of Damen’s palm. “And I will eat when I wake. I am very much still stuck to you. Need I remind you /you/ were the one that had to swim back.”

Laurent had had his worries, had been sick with them, and had to face his worst fear of losing Damen again and /again/. But he had Damen now, here with him, and so long as that was the case, Laurent could relax for enough time to finally rest. Damen was well - well enough anyway - and Laurent could sleep knowing that they’d moved past that hurdle and that it was time to move on to handling Ios.


	22. Chapter 22

Damen didn’t wake until what appeared to be the next morning. Wind began to blow from the south, and light began to peek through the dust and ash, illuminating the beaches. Damen’s eyes opened to see the beginnings of light against the canvas of the tent. He tucked Laurent closer to him, not yet willing to let the sun drive them apart.

Ultimately, it was Nikandros.

“Exalted,” Nikandros greeted as he entered. “Tiberius would like to send scouting ships back to Ios now that visibility as improved. I’ve held him off as long as I can.”

Damen let out a sigh and moved up to an elbow. “Tell him his king says to wait. I’m going with them.”

Nikandros let out a snort. “You are not. We have no idea what lies across the sea, and we will not make the same mistake twice in sending you. Once they return, we will have a ship prepared to take you across—once thing are deemed safe.”

Damen thought to argue, then pursed his lips. He couldn’t have Laurent worry again.

“Fine. Have someone fetch us breakfast, then. We will see the boat off.”

Nikandros nodded. “As you wish. I will tell them to begin readying the ship.”

He left quickly after that, and Damen slumped back into the mattress.

Just as he was about to speak again, Leopold entered with a tray of more bread and fruit. “Glad to see you are awake, Exalted. I’ve brought your meal.”

* * *

Laurent’s brow ticked the moment Nikandros entered, but he did not fully stir. He was so comfortably tucked into Damen that - even having slept the whole night - he did not feel the need to return to waking, to fully give himself to the conversation being had. He felt the rumble of Damen’s voice responding, and easily fell back to sleep despite the small annoyance of visitation.

He was not so lucky when Leopold entered the tent.

It had not so much been the presence of others that woke him, nor the conversations happening around him that woke him. It had been the scent of food, of something sweet like juice that made Laurent’s stomach rumble, forced him awake.

He was surprised to see the sun. So much so, that even his desire to eat could not pull him from staring at the tent’s siding for a moment, where the light threatened to shine through any give in the fabric. In Arles, sunless days came often in the winter, but they had not felt right in Ios. Laurent felt a warmth that had not even truly been lost, but there was certainly an uptick in his mood when he saw the beginnings of /something/ new since that blast.

“Morn’,” Laurent mumbled to Damen, burrowing for a moment into the familiar scent of Damen’s chest before turning his head, looking up at Damen, and then at Leopold through his own mussed blonde hair.

“Good morning,” he said much more clearly to the physician.

* * *

Laurent was striking, even with bedhead. Damen personally thought he looked desirable with his hair mussed, and he couldn’t help but press his lips to Laurent’s cheek to return his greeting. He tasted a bit like ash, but what didn’t at this point?

“Good morning,” Leopold replied. He smiled warmly and stepped back. “Your Majesty, I think my charge looks capable of handling his own breakfast this morning. But do see that he doesn’t try to eat /your/ breakfast. A larger portion or the wrong food could put us back in a predicament.”

He thought it might be best for both kings to have some time alone—they would not have much in the coming days.

“He should advise Paschal,” Damen chuckled, brushing noses with Laurent. He wanted to soak in every moment they had together. He winced when he moved and reignited the pain in his thigh, but it wasn’t as bad as he remembered from the night before.

“Did you sleep well?” he hummed, unable to stop himself from smiling. “You look like you did."

* * *

“I certainly slept harder than I imagined I could,” Laurent murmured, and though Leopold had warned him of Damen taking /his/ food, nothing had been said about Laurent taking Damen’s. So he reached over and grabbed the first fruit he felt at his fingers, bit into it to chase away the taste of sleep as well as the ache in his empty stomach.

Damen’s little wince did not go unnoticed, and with that, Laurent gave him a bit of space, moving to sit up in the bed, fruit cradled in his hands. He acted as if it was nothing, even stretching to cover his intentions of having moved.

The sheets were streaked with stubborn ash that still stuck to their skin, even after their dunk in the water. Laurent wanted a bath terribly.

“I seem to have woken when I was supposed to,” Laurent murmured, gesturing to the side of the tent dappled with sunlight. “That is probably a good sign.

* * *

Damen decided to sit up as well, grabbing his plate. There wasn’t much food for a man of his size, but he took it as a good thing that he was hungry at all. He noticed the streaked sheets and dimly wondered how long the people of Ios would be experiencing it. He felt like he hadn’t breathed fresh air in months.

Laurent’s food arrived not long after that, and Damen decided to behave and only eat what was given to him. His stomach did feel much better.

“Perhaps I can show you Isthima,” Damen said absently as he scooped up butter with his last bit of bread. “Since I will not be able to show you my home.”

He explained that Isthima used to be controlled by rebels, that Akielons fought several battles over the land until it was finally secured over a hundred years prior. The architecture was different than most of Akielos—Isthima was full of clay buildings painted stark white, built into the craggy hillsides behind the beach. The hills were full of almond trees, vineyards, and orchards. Fields and farmland hosted goats and sheep.

“I have feared that one day the Kyros of Isthima might seek to make Isthima its own country,” Damen admitted. He hadn't looked up from his folded hands since mentioning that Ios was gone. “Thankfully I do not suspect that of Tiberius, but one day it could happen. Perhaps even in our lifetime.”

This ordeal could give Tiberius the leverage to lay the groundwork for independence.

* * *

Laurent would love to see Isthima, should they decide to break off from Akielos now or not. Laurent knew they wouldn’t, of course. Tiberius was much too fond of Damen to in only the few hours Laurent had seen him. If he /was/ plotting to leave, it would be because of the Veretian union, not because it had been long planned. No, the Akielon people very clearly loved their king, their country. Laurent had yet to hear a man who mourned Kastor’s legacy. Laurent should see the whole of it. Whatever he could.

“The rain from the evening will be well received then,” Laurent did say aloud once he had swallowed down another bite of apricot. “I did not realise so many exports came from here. I would have insisted we come of our own accord.”

It didn’t seem right to talk about Ios now. They would be facing it soon enough, especially if Laurent had truly heard boats would be sent today. They should take the day to talk to those of Isthima, to thank them for their hospitality, to secure a place for those who may not have a home to return to...

Laurent reached across his beloved’s lap and took Damen’s hand in his, thumbing at his knuckles, pleased to see Damen’s proper colour had returned.

“If you are well enough to walk,” Laurent reasoned with him. “But if it hurts your leg too badly, we should stay here, perhaps plan our return to your home.”

* * *

Damen wasn’t sure he was well enough for much of anything. He felt fine right now, but a shot walk yesterday had sent him into a state of such sickness he thought he might puke out his entrails. Walking a city sounded daunting in a way Damen never could have imagined.

But he wanted Laurent to see Akielos. All of Akielos.

“Once you’ve eaten,” Damen said with a nod. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, to pull Laurent to his chest and just hold him close until they could both forget about this whole thing. It was cowardly and he knew it, but he was tired of feigning strength when he had no idea what to be strong for beyond his people and the man he loved.

Instead he waited for Laurent to finish his breakfast and then stood on his bandaged feet. The swelling and sensitivity nearly made him sit back down on the bed, but he steeled himself. He would have to walk on his feet at some point, and it was better now than during an emergency.

At least his leg didn’t hurt.

“I will be mistaken for a commoner,” Damen chuckled, looking down at his ashy chiton. His feet were a mess of bandage and dried blood. “I think it would be good for me to hold your arm.” He didn’t want to look on the verge of limping for anyone who might be outside.

He wouldn’t let Fynn be the only one seen arm and arm with the king of Vere.

* * *

Laurent watched Damen warily as he stood on his own, and he recognized the discomfort immediately. Were he not on the opposite side of the bed, he would have moved to help, but Damen kept himself upright somehow, and Laurent gave his beloved the respect of distance while he worked it out. Laurent busied himself with brushing his fingers through his hair, trying to make himself look somewhat presentable. He had not looked so well in his earlier visit to his council, but he had been too tired to care.

“Perhaps there will be a bath at the end of this walk,” Laurent proposed to Damen, taking up his arm in a way that would seem like a mere fond touch, but Laurent had his strength behind it, just to be certain this was not too terribly uncomfortable for Damen. “It may help you feel more yourself. I can certainly say you look unlike any commoner I have ever seen.”

Damen would never pass as a common man, Laurent was so convinced. Not with his height, size, those dimples, those eyes. On top of that, Damen was extraordinary. Even if he had been born into common life, someone would have taken him in and made him a powerful man.

As Laurent supposed even he had after much error.

“Are you certain you feel ready for this?” Laurent asked, looking down at Damen’s leg. It was only just visible past the hem of the chiton, properly cut to length for a grown man of Akielon culture. “I could have Nikandros carry you, should that be more comfortable.”

He was only slightly kidding.

* * *

“We’ll go to the ships first,” Damen said, his voice a little tight. He was used to pain—being Laurent’s slave had introduced him to the feeling quite well. But battered feet was a new kind of torture. Each step squeezed swollen muscle, sent sharp pain up the soles of his feet, but he found it a little easier to walk the more steps they took.

“Do your feet hurt?” he asked, wincing as he stepped on a bit of harder sand.

He didn’t realize Laurent had asked him a question until ht felt the air stagnate around him. “I’m fine,” he lied. “I have been through much worse.” He /had/ been through much worse. This was nothing to him. Yet it felt so, so much worse than any injury from war or training exercise.

As they walked to the docks, Damen realized his pain was so great not because of his physical injuries being any worse than normal, but because…there was no home waiting for him, no safe haven to retire to.

“Damianos!” Tiberus called, racing to him. He actually gave Damen a hug, overjoyed to see him walking about. Tiberius quickly stepped away upon realizing his mistake, and dropped to a knee, head bowed in shame. “Forgive me, Exalted. I’m simply happy to see you about.”

“Thank you, Tiberius,” Damen said, leaning a little more into Laurent. “Are the ships ready?”

“Yes,” he quickly replied, standing up. “They’re ready to go as soon as you and His Majesty permit them.”

Damen smiled wide. Tiberius was learning.

* * *

“They hurt,” Laurent replied with a vague ease, a noncommittal shrug - because they did. ’Stung' was actually a more fitting description for the sensation, but his injuries were mild. Laurent had fought through a knife in the shoulder, held his own while drugged, and maintained standing in chains for hours and hours and hours. Foot pain would not stop him. He wouldn’t allow it.

“But I was not in the fire quite as long as—“

Had Tiberius not announced himself before running up to Damen like that, Laurent probably would have stabbed him on sight. It was rare someone acted so boldly as to approach the king in such a way, and Laurent had to restrain himself from saying something about it. He adjusts his hold on Damen, let them have their moment.

Perhaps it was because it had happened during the great cataclysm of events, or perhaps it was because it had only been going on for a few days, but Laurent did not see anyone speaking ill of the relationship Damen and Tiberius had shared, didn’t see anyone questioning it of him, even though there clearly was actually a past with it. But Laurent would not be the one to do so, that was for sure. He just averted his eyes to the ships, still holding Damen at his side.

“We should send the ships,” he did say to Damen, not giving the order (as it was not his place) but thinking it best to get things moving.

He turned his gaze to the tents, spotting Jeurre walking among them, alone. So the council was not meeting to conspire it seemed…

* * *

“Do as Laurent says,” Damen agreed with a nod. He wanted people to see that his decisions were tied with Laurent’s, that their now-postponed wedding would not suddenly change how he would operate. In Damen’s mind, Laurent was already his husband in every sense. Nothing would change his mind now, especially not an embrace from Tiberius, pretty though he was.

“I will send them at once,” Tiberius said before racing off.

Damen took a chance to catch Laurent’s off guard with a kiss to his cheek while his gaze was elsewhere.

“See something you like?” Damen asked, as though they weren’t surrounded by temporary structures housing the people of Ios. It was quite strange to see Laurent so devoid of jewelry and shine. Of course, Laurent was always conservative with his clothing and accessories, but he always had /something/, be it a crown, an earring, or a starburst of some kind.

Damen’s heart sank at the thought that perhaps Auguste’s starbursts had been lost in the destruction.

He unlaced their fingers to slide his arm around Laurent’s waist as the ships began their slow release from the docks. Rowing and sails made a decent method of getting moving, as the winds were not terribly strong.

He hoped that they would return with survivors, with news that Ios was not lost.

* * *

“Just watching,” Laurent murmured with a fond little smile, the kiss fully having caught him off guard and warming him in a way the sun could not. “No one seems to be crying today.” No one standing outside the tents anyway. Even as the ships began to sail, as people began to step out and watch from their tents lining the beach, no one seemed to be where they had been emotionally. Perhaps they were all exhausted.

The sea was not so violent as it had been before, and the ship did not seem ready to capsize or sink as it slices through the waves with ease. There was no telling what would be over the horizon even before Ios, but Laurent could only hope it would be nothing too terrible.

To this moment, Laurent had still not stopped to think about what he had lost in this. He was much more focused on Damen, his home, his people…

“Let us hobble off the beach,” Laurent said to Damen, patting his lower back and nodding back up towards the tents. “We should really find that bath, prepare for our return to Ios.” For, if things were well, they could return as early as tomorrow. “I am sure Cosmas would like to see you as well.”

* * *

Cosmas. Damen hadn’t seen him since arriving here. So he agreed, taking Laurent’s hand for support as they walked back up the beach (somehow less painful than walking down). He longed to be on one of the ships, but the desire soon faded when he realized that would mean leaving Laurent again.

They found Cosmas first, and Damen was surprised to see Fynn inside the tent, fast asleep in a crude chair that had been placed inside. Deirdre, the woman caring for the child, brightened upon seeing Damen. Cosmas was fussing, snot bubbling from his nose, groaning and threatening to cry.

Damen took him immediately. “Cosmas,” he murmured, bouncing the child in his arms.

Cosmas looked startled for a moment, then gurgled happily.

“Yes, it’s me.” Damen chuckled, brushing a thumb over his round cheek.

Cosmas screeched happily, kicking his legs. Damen kissed his forehead, holding him close for a moment. Cosmas grabbed onto his cheeks, his little nails incredibly sharp for how small they were. For that brief moment, everything was well in the world because Cosmas was safe.

“You will be a fighter,” Damen said with a laugh, peppering little kisses to Cosmas’s cheeks as he squealed with delight. “How has he been with all of the smoke?”

“Strong," Deirdre replied, smiling. “He was not happy to sleep with the weather, but he did well.”

Damen stepped closer to Laurent, and Cosmas’s smile dropped to a look of awe upon seeing Laurent’s face.

“Would you like to hold him?” Damen asked. “It seems he missed you."

* * *

Cosmas.

Laurent could have done without.

In the panic, in the sea of fire and smoke, of quakes and destruction, Laurent had not been able to think so clearly. He never would have left the baby to die, but truly, he could have put him on another ship, could have - in the chaos - handed him off to some woman and had the child lost to the mob. Cosmas could have, on that day, started life anew of all of this, could have been freed from all of this…

But Laurent had damned him once more. To this.

They would not be able to keep this relationship - Damen and Cosmas. They wouldn’t be able to. They would be torn apart when Cosmas came to know the truth of ho he was, of what had made him. The people would tear them apart if their internal struggle did not.

It would be another loss for Damen, this relationship with Cosmas’ son. Laurent knew the life of the scorned, angry nephew. It was not something he wanted to see Damen experience.

"No, thank you,” Laurent dismissed, raising his hands to create a small barrier perfectly fit to not holding the infant. Laurent was in no place to hold a child, lest one more suffer the fate of merely knowing him. “He is excited to see you."

* * *

Damen couldn’t help but feel a sting of hurt when Laurent refused Cosmas. Just a few nights ago Laurent had been the one holding the baby and not allowing anyone else near him.

“He is excited to see /you/,” Damen corrected, a little sad. Cosmas didn’t seem to mind snuggling back up to Damen’s chest, gurgling softly. Deirdre took time to rest, a little haggard herself. He hoped she didn’t mind caring for the child after losing her own.

Damen held Cosmas close until Tiberius found them, looking pleased. He asked about baths, and Tiberius nearly fell over himself with excitement at the prospect of preparing baths for kings. Isthima boasted some of the finest baths in Akielos, always ready to entertain visiting royalty looking for a warm soak.

“There,” Damen said to Laurent. “Baths are in order.”

Tiberius grinned, his dark curls bouncing in the light as he nodded. “I will find the best for you both. Come into the city and my staff will find you there. I will also find you proper clothes—this is the perfect excuse for me to return home for a moment.”

Damen looked over at his betrothed, Cosmas now asleep in his arms.

“Are you sure you don’t wish to tell him goodbye?” Damen asked. He had to try one more time.

* * *

The child was not excited to see Laurent. He was excited to see blond hair, blue eyes, a pale complexion. It was the closest Cosmas has seen to his mother and ever would for some time. Laurent would not be there to confuse the child further, screw him up anymore than he already would be.

“I am far too dirty,” Laurent demised again, giving Cosmas a once-over. He was so terribly small in Damen’s arms, looked so terribly like him to. Theomedes’ genes would run for a long time if Cosmas ever grew to have children. “And he will not even know we are gone. He is practically asleep in your arms already.”

Laurent gathered himself and crossed the room, tapped Fynn’s chair with his leg in an attempt to wake him.

“The woman needs to rest,” Laurent said, and where he did feel terrible waking Fynn, it felt better than trying to avoid holding the child. “So does the child. I’ll have Jord posted outside and have Lucien brought in to help.” Surely the boy could hold an infant.

“After the bath, we will try to return,” Laurent said, but it was no more than an attempt at appeasing Damen.

* * *

Fynn started awake, momentarily confused as to where he was and why Laurent was there. He thought he had fallen asleep in the tent with Cosmas—well, it appeared he had. Damianos stood by with the child in his arms, glaring at him as he got to his feet.

“Of course,” Fynn said, clearing his throat. He turned to Damen, extending his arms for the child.

Damen flatly ignored him and turned to the woman, who took him back with a pained look to Fynn. She was a kind person, but he knew she was coming close to the end of her rope with a fussy child who almost always seemed to be hungry.

“We’ll wait for Lucien and Jord,” Fynn agreed, dropping his arms back to his sides to bow respectfully.

Damen barely acknowledged him as he took Laurent’s hand and led him out of the tent without a word. Fynn could only note that the mighty king of Akielos was struggling to walk correctly after a few minor injuries. He found it hard to believe that this oaf had the agility to take down Auguste. He still suspected foul play, and he didn’t think any amount of niceties would change that.

“He is like a plague,” Damen muttered as they walked in the slowly brightening atmosphere. The sun was trying its best to burn through the smoke, it seemed. “He is everywhere. Do you plan for him to live at Marlas? Tell me he will go back to Kempt soon."

* * *

Laurent did not have the time for apologetic glances, Damen whisked him away so quickly. Laurent was quick to correct their marching order however, dipping under Damen’s arm as he had ben before, making sure the weight was on him so Damen did not injure himself further, hurt himself more. Though he did just about drop him when Fynn was brought up /again/. Amidst /everything/ else.

“I was actually going to ask him to stay in trundle bed in our chambers in Marlas,” Laurent replied flatly, humorlessly. “So glad you brought it up. Here I thought it would be awkward.”

Laurent whistled for Jord the moment he saw him up the beach and, as expected, Jord jogged right to him, ready for orders, which Laurent rattled off quite quickly.

“Lucien is acquainted with the child, yes,” Jord assured Laurent, but his eyes were on Damen, wary. “Should I send for some assistance, your majesty?”

“Not needed,” Laurent dismissed, shifting Damen’s weight. “Just see to that child and I will see to mine.”

It had not, he realized, been the kindest of words.

They didn’t need this.

“Go, captain,” Laurent murmured, already dealing with the regret, nodding towards the tent where Cosmas rested. Luckily, Jord did.

* * *

“He is going back to Kempt after the wedding,” Damen said in the same flat tone. He was suddenly fed up with seeing Fynn around everywhere—especially after Laurent forgetting about him in the gardens. It was best for everyone to have Fynn stay away from them, especially now. Damen found it all too easy to be angy about things long past.

Damen nearly smarted at being called a child. Had he more control of his body at the moment, he would have pulled completely away. He didn't want to fight, but he hardly thought he deserved such an insult. Jord left them and Damen let out a snort.

“To the city,” he said, annoyed. “Unless you would like to lead us, as the adult in the group.”

He didn’t wait for a response before pushing forward toward the city, all but dragging Laurent along with him. His home was likely destroyed, and hundreds or thousands of his people were probably dead. Jokaste was dead. Pallas was possibly dead. And Laurent wanted to call him a child.

As they had been told, an attendant waited for them at the gate, dressed in a deep blue chiton with gold embroidery.

“Exalted, Your Majesty,” the attendant greeted, bowing low. “Welcome. We have prepared baths for you both. Come with me."

* * *

Laurent followed along, annoyed even though it felt he was not allowed to be.

The gates to the city of Isthima were not far from the beach - deep enough in to not be touched by the tide, but not much further. Their buildings were raised all the same, as if planning for a day where the sea might threaten their homes.

On the beach, Laurent had not even thought that Isthima might be more than just that, but he could already see its influence taken from elsewhere in the attendant’s garb. Laurent had seen colored chitons obviously, but they were not the fashion in Ios. iOS favored whites, golds, silken, muted colors. It reminded Laurent of his own home, but he knew the influence did not come from Vere. Not from Kempt, either.

He still had so much culture to learn in Akielos alone.

He would try to enjoy it.

“Do you have a summer home here, as well?” Laurent asked, hoping for something outside of annoyance at that moment. “I don’t see anything quite palace-like.”

* * *

“No,” Damen replied as they followed the attendant. “It is close enough to Ios that it seemed wasteful to build a house here. Typically we stay with the Kyros for overnight trips.” Theomedes enjoyed Isthima—particularly its women. Light eyes and long black hair made up of ringlet curls. Damen spent many days of his childhood racing around the dirt roads of the city, following Kastor to the beaches and coming back to the estate covered in seaweed and sand.

“The estate here is not what you are used to,” Damen explained. “I would call it a palace, but it is unassuming from the outside.”

The attendant led them through another gate, this one adorned with two golden lions locked in battle. A simple arched entrance to a clay building stood ahead, and Damen smiled. He had been here many times and enjoyed each visit.

Guards opened the gates to reveal an impossible scene. A dome ceiling painted with depictions of horses, the Okton, warriors, kings, beautiful women. The palace was built into the cliffside, and down several curved staircases were wide openings that looked out onto a private beach. In the center, a story below was a vast pool littered with marble statues gazing longingly at the sea.

“Palace enough for you?” Damen asked with a smirk as they headed down the steps. The hard ground was not kind on his feet, but he made due.

* * *

Laurent truly would have assumed nothing of this place. The ornate gates seemed out of place in front of such a strange structure, but when Damen said it was not Laurent was used to, he presumed it would be a cozy hovel at most, understated and welcoming.

So yes, he was a bit floored when the door opened and he set his eyes on what he would also now definitely call a ‘palace.’

Laurent even stopped for a moment in the doorway, eyes glued to the ceiling, trying to process one thing at a time, and staring up did not seem wise when going down stairs.

Akielos was a...terribly strange place to Laurent still. In the best of ways.

“There are no stories of this,” Laurent murmured when he did start to move again, and though he’d already decided it was a bad idea, he did catch himself staring up at the ceiling. He would marvel at the statues when he came to them, the view when he could, the pool when he was in it.

“This is Tiberius’ home?”

* * *

“Akielos does keep /some/ secrets,” Damen chuckled. “Yes, this is where Tiberius lives. Several in the high courts of Isthima also reside here—the island is not big enough to allow opulent palaces all over the place. They are a more communal culture than the mainland.”

It was why they didn’t hesitate to run to aid Ios, to send boats and offer supplies. Isthima faced challenges of all kinds—sea storms, and attacks. Ios always made sure to send a full garrison to defend it or offer aid. The two provinces worked hand-in-hand.

“You will have to excuse the state of the palace,” the attendant explained. “We have been taking supplies to the beaches.”

She led them down to the pools, but took them underneath where they had entered to a small alcove. A single pool took up most of the space save for a pathway around the rim that could only fit person across. Soaps, perfumes, and oils sat ready for them, along with a tray of fresh fruit and chalices for juice or wine.

Best of all, steam rose from the water, indicating it was warm. they were fully enclosed on three sides, but the alcove did have a wide opening to view the other pools and the sea. The attendant left them with a bow, and Damen took a moment to thank the gods he was able to have such luxury.

“Will you be all right?” he asked Laurent. “Or is it too open or you?"

* * *

It was opulence of a kind Laurent had never known, and he followed dutifully behind Damen even though he desired nothing more than to stop once more and take it all in. He supposed he could do that from the pool itself, but Laurent could not to ally rule out that his body might slip into the warmed water and put him right to sleep.

“I’ve no interest in being particular about my nudity right now,” Laurent assured Damen, already undoing the tie at the waist of his chiton, though it remained pinned at his shoulder, and he did keep the tie aloft to give the attendant the time to leave, the time to leave them to their devices.

Yes, it was all a bit /open/ - Laurent could not say he was accustomed to communal baths. He had always attributed such bathing to slaves in fine harems, to pets in the brothels, had attributed it to voyuerism - but then, he’d been raised in Vere where everything was.

It wasn’t enough that he would not be bathing at this moment.

Laurent dropped his chiton, sat alongside the edge of the bath to remove the bandages from his feet. It would not do them any good to get wet, and he was certain someone would be around to rebandage him as needed after this. The water would certainly sting, but again, he needed it. He and Damen both.

A few moments later, Laurent could finally push off the edge and lower himself into the tub, where he involuntarily hissed and then groaned as the warm water settled around his feet, his aching limbs, washed the first layer of dark ash from his arms, his torso, his knees and legs. He tipped his head back, did a pass through his hair before righting himself, bringing water to his face and wiping away the dirt there.

* * *

Damen hissed as he slowly unwound his feet from their bandages. He honestly couldn’t remember when they had been replaced or so had done it—he presumed it had happened while he was asleep. None the less, his feet were ruddy, with peeling skin stretched tight around his swollen feet. It burned to put his feet in the water, but the burning eventually subsided to a pleasant tingling.

Eventually he pushed himself into the water to follow Laurent, his chiton discarded at the water’s edge. Dust and grime clouded the water around him as he lightly rubbed his body with his palms, freeing more ash and dirt.

He couldn’t even focus on Laurent in those first few minutes beyond handing him soap and oil to wash himself with. There was simply too much grime to clean off of himself. His hair was clumped with sand and grit, so Damen dunked himself and scrubbed at his scalp.

It was hard to be annoyed when he was warm and clean.

“Have I been terrible?” Damen asked where he reclined against the side of the pool. His eyes fluttered closed, but he wasn’t in danger of sleeping. He had done far too much of that already. But it was refreshing to feel clean, to be rid of the weight and discomfort he hadn’t even realized was there.

“Where do you want to sleep tonight?” he asked in a rather sudden change of subject. “I am sure Tiberius could find us a bed here, or we can remain in the new tent. I would choose whichever you will be most comfortable in. We may be returning to Ios tomorrow and I would like you rested.”

* * *

Laurent stayed to himself, not at all to the fault of Damen, but just because cleaning himself was a priority task that /needed/ completion. Days of dust, ash, blood, dirt, sloughed off his skin until he was left red from rubbing, but at least it was /off/ of him. His hair took a few long moments to thoroughly rinse back to its usual colour, taking him from a ruddy brunette back to the blonde he was known for. He flipped his hair back, let the grey water run down his body, and he felt /better/.

“You haven’t been terrible,” Laurent murmured passively - not because he did not believe it to be the truth, but because it was a foolish question. Damen had only strummed once at his nerves, and they’d made it past that. “You’ve been recovering for days. You haven’t had the time to be terrible even if you wanted to.”

He knew Damen would not have wanted to.

Laurent moved from one arm to the other, as if he might /ever/ be as clean as he had been back in Ios again. He had scrapes and cuts he’d not even known of until the skin was cleared of dirt.

He gave Damen his full attendant when their evening was spoken of and—

Laurent could often forget how attractive Damen was. When he turned away for too long, it seemed unrealistic to picture a man so beautiful. So unrealistic, that when he set eyes on Damen again, he was always enthralled. Damen was clean, his curls trying to bounce back after being so sodden with muck and dirt. He looked handsome.

“We should stay at the tent,” Laurent decided, making his way over to Damen in the water. “As a show of good faith, I think. We shouldn’t move our guard and all of that if we are just to move back that way tomorrow."

* * *

“I agree,” Damen said, watching Laurent with hooded eyes. He hadn’t noticed how dirty Laurent truly was until he was clean of it. Now he was pink all over, his hair back to a golden sheen. Any man would be lucky to have him. Any woman, too.

He wondered when they would sleep in a real bed again. When they would go to Marlas. They couldn’t postpone the wedding for long, so long as Marlas was still standing. They had guests from all of the kingdoms and beyond - they couldn’t turn them back home even for a disaster.

“Is today the day we would have left for Marlas?” Damen asked, gently pulling Laurent into his arms. “Soon we will be wed, and I will be able to speak to Veretians without being questioned, and Tiberius will have to listen to your every command and bow to you.” He figured Laurent would take joy in that.

Damen closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Laurent’s.

“I would bow to you, if you asked,” he whispered. He smiled, and then it turned sly. “Maybe."

* * *

“Today or yesterday,” Laurent confirmed in a comfortable murmur. Pressed close to Damen, he always felt the need to create a bubble just for them, even in an otherwise completely empty space. “I think it was today. Everything is a bit of a blur.”

Marlas didn’t feel like a real place right now, but Laurent knew it was. He knew it was not only real, but that he needed to be there. Not just for his wedding, but because of what being there and taking Marlas back symbolised for Vere. It meant just as much as sharing it with Akielos. All this time - all this /way/ - and they still were unable to move forward with their union, with changing their entire kingdom. It seemed like a secondary issue right now, like it - along with Marlas - were self-created issues that took no precedent here.

Laurent was getting a headache.

“I’ve had quite enough of your bowing to me,” Laurent did chuckle when Damen pulled him out of it, going so far as to flick water at Damen’s chest pointedly. “Even when I did demand it of you, you did it so sardonically, I could have throttled you.”

And Laurent supposed he had once or twice in one form or another.

“I am almost certain Tiberius will be the same.”

And on the subject of Tiberius—

“But he…/respects/ you,” It sounded as dubious as Laurent could outright make it, "so I suppose that is all that truly matters in the early years of all of this."

* * *

“You were being an ass, to be fair,” Damen chuckled fondly in return. “And Tiberius will not be the same. He will see that you are as good of a man as I know you to be, and that I am marrying you for a reason that is not political.”

He wondered what it would have been like if Laurent had been forced to marry him. if their fathers made the match to unite the kingdoms. Damen may have hated Laurent for a time, but Laurent would control all of Akielos by their anniversary in exchange for his pleasure, and it wouldn’t take him long to figure that out. Damen honestly couldn’t help it—no one had ever attracted him this way.

Damen carded back a bit of Laurent’s fair hair, now darkened with water.

“I slept with him over the course of a summer,” Damen murmured. “Not many times, but enough that it clearly left an impression.” Nikandros had wasted no time in telling Laurent all of the details, he was sure.

“He is a good man, and kind. Like any Kyros of Isthima, he is cautious to trust and protective of his home. But i think you would get along well with him.” Damen feathered his lips along Laurent’s brow bone, keeping him close, wrapped in his arms.

“He will respect you as a King of Akielos. And he will be jealous of your bed, but who wouldn’t?” He cracked a grin. “But you are the only one who has my heart."

* * *

“Are there any of your advisors you’ve not slept with?” Laurent asked, and despite him presenting it as a leisurely, passive joke, he picked his words precisely. Laurent /had/ no history of sleeping with anyone but Damen, and yet he could not understand how all the doubt hit /him/. Yes, he could admit that his momentary unfaithfulness had come during his relationship, and he was still at fault for that, but he had /never/ actually /slept/ with any of his own—

Laurent had to dunk himself. He went right under the water with some sound hands somewhere between crushing into his eyes and his forehead.

Laurent didn’t usually /react/ to things. Since his time with Damen, he could count the times he’d acted out of emotion on one hand. Unless he had to count swiping the entire contents off a table in a fit that one time and the time he’d tried to stab Damen—

This time was less destructive.

This also was /not/ the issue to have right now. He had hoped to wipe that whole conversation away with the dirt and the grime of the days since the literal leveling of parts of Ios, but here they were, with this stupid issue amongst a thousand others.

Laurent resurfaced, already feeling foolish for even reacting to anything, and pushed his hair back, wiped off his face.

“You have fucked every beautiful face in Akielos,” Laurent stated - only a statement, nothing more. “And they all still so clearly adore you, Damen. All of them. And they’ve every right to - and they /should/.” Laurent’s jealousy was often outweighed by his pride at being the one to have Damianos of Akielos. “They fawn, they moon, and they hide their distaste for me behind their distaste for my being Veretian, and perhaps those distates cross, but they are not one in the same, and I do notice the difference.”

“Jokaste knew /everything/,” Laurent went on, but it was not with the same indifference and civility he spoke with earlier. It couldn’t be. Laurent had to speak softly, tread lightly. Not only was Jokaste dead, but he had not yet confessed with Damen that he had spoken to her. Laurent usually timed things so well, but…he could not have foreseen that ending the way it had. “She knew everything, Damen. And not only rumors, but details, of feelings. Of /your/ feelings, Damianos. As if you had been speaking with her yourself. And am I to believe you were not doing just that? Am I to believe you did not take advice from a beautiful face in Ios while I was away in Arles?”

He wasn’t angry. If anything, Laurent was embittered, as he had been on the beach. But with time and the desire to /understand/, it had turned into something softer, something more beseeching than venomous.

* * *

Damen was not expecting /that./ He’d never seen Laurent so…jealous. the only way Damen recognized it at all was because he had seen it in the eyes of many of his lovers when they inevitably lost their place in his bed. It frightened him to see it in Laurent.

But he wasn’t afraid long, not when he found out that Laurent had spoken with with Jokaste. Alone. For long enough to discuss /him/. Worse, Laurent seemed upset with him for things from his past. Lovers from his past. Yes, Damen knew full well he had enjoyed the company of many in his bed, but Laurent had never mentioned being upset about it before.

Suddenly there was distance between them again.

Damen was angry first. It sounded like Laurent was accusing him of something with Jokaste—nothing could be further from the truth.

“You think I would speak with /Jokaste/? About /Fynn?/” Damen scoffed. His face turned to a scowl. “She is the reason I can’t stop think about you and him, yes—but not because I spoke with her. In case your forgot, I was in love with her before she left me for my brother and personally ensured I was collared and chained to be given as a gift to /you./“

Jokaste didn’t speak to him about anything other than Cosmas when he saw her. They certainly didn’t speak about Laurent betraying him, for this exact scenario. They would never have to worry about it again now. Jokaste was buried under the palace—and were they really even sure she was dead when they found her?

“I am still hurting,” Damen said, his voice strained. “Before all of this, I was still hurting. You could have just asked me, you didn’t need to go to the woman who ruined my life, who barely knows me now.” Knew. Knew him.

“And what does it matter who I’ve slept with?” Damen asked, hurt leaking into his voice now. “You knew that before you even knew me, I’m sure. but if you see Tiberius as such a threat—I don’t understand you. He’s a handsome face, but that is /all.” You said as much yourself."

* * *

“It /matters/ because you are surrounded by them,” Laurent hissed, but again, it was not out of anger. It was frustration, a desire to understand something he couldn’t and it being a treacherous field he had to cross to learn it. “They are everywhere. In your charge, in your home, tending to your bed, your baths, your clothes, and yet no one doubts you. No one thinks to. A hundred men, women, what have you, and /no/ one doubts you. /I/ cannot even doubt you.”

Yet Laurent was close with /one/ and it caused this terrible rift between them.

Laurent did not have the jealousy Damen had. Yes, it sounded like he did here, but it was not his jealousy of /others/ that drove this. It was his jealousy of /Damen/ - in these regards only.

“All this happening - /all/ of this - and you snap about the one man who has been there for you second to your Kyros. Third to him being a man you fucked, and yet /that/ is not the rift between us. It’s my /singular/ decision.”

Jokaste had said it. She had pointed out Damen’s growing irritability, how he would, in time, grow tired of Laurent, of chasing a frigid king. She had pointed out how women and men had been handpicked for Damen to have when Laurent was no longer what he fancied. Damen was set up to be unfaithful, yet /Laurent/ was the one vigilantly scrutinised and scorned.

“I went to Jokaste because she /does/ know you. Your pour your heart out so fully to everyone you love, Damianos. You are weak to beauty, and—“ Laurent hadn’t meant that. “—You are so incredibly /honest/, and transparent, and...” Warm, welcoming, kind, obvious, oblivious....

Damen was a good man.

An honest man.

A likeable man.

He was difficult to put fault on.

Unlike Laurent.

* * *

Damen wondered how long Laurent had been sitting with this. How upset he must have been—and for how long? He remembered Laurent making a comment about one of his attendants, but Damen never went after any of them. Laurent was saying he didn’t doubt, but it certainly sounded like he did.

“Fynn has not been there for me,” Damen corrected. “He is here for you. If it were my choice, he would be back in Kempt, but I won’t kick him out because/ you/ care for him so much.” Fynn would have left him to drown in the sea if Laurent hadn’t been around. He had made it clear in Arles that his goal was /Laurent’s/ happiness, and that was all.

Weak to beauty. Damen couldn’t even refute that. But it hurt him deeply to hear that Laurent went to Jokaste instead of asking him. And then, presumably, he’d gone straight to Fynn and forgotten about him. He could only imagine what Jokaste would have said, what lies she would have spun.

“So do you doubt I love you, then?” Damen asked. “Enough that you went to her instead of asking me?”

He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation.

“The difference is that what I did was before I knew you, before I loved you,” he said after a long moment. “Your choice—/choices/—came while we were—“ His chest tightened, thinking back to the night of Juerre’s party, where Laurent had left him waiting and then had almost died out in the snow.

“I will never know what about me wasn’t enough for you.” Damen shook his head. “I never had reason to think you would ever want anyone else until that night. Now it sudednly feels like I could lose you despite everything we’ve been through together."

* * *

“And /that/ is why I am so /frustrated/!” Laurent hissed, his hands shaped like little claws as he battled between hiding his face and slapping the water. “Because I cannot doubt you. I /do not/ doubt you - at all! And you have fucked /hundreds/. Yet I hold none of it against you - none of their looks, their comments, their glances. I do not worry about your commitment to me in these moments—“

Well, he didn’t right now, anyway. No, that might be something that came down the line, something that Jokaste could be right about, but he did not know that to be the truth. Laurent did not see it as a problem worth trying to head off at this very moment.

Or, perhaps thats what this conversation was. Perhaps this was Laurent’s attempt at trying to be something other than a frigid king, but fuck if he could navigate around something he had built for himself over the course of his entire adulthood.

And it /angered/ Laurent to hear that Damen had thrown away his every notion of Laurent over this. To have finally been understood, to have someone who knew his heart, who had bet his life on it multiples times, to suddenly /not/ know Laurent? It hurt him, too. To be seen so clearly and suddenly to have no one see him for who he was at all?

“What do I do, Damen?” Laurent just asked outright, turning to his lover with a glacial gaze that did not match his otherwise somber expression. “Tell me what I can do. You Akielons are so forward in everything else, just tell me. What do I do? How is it that I can be as trusted as you are despite your illustrious list of lovers? And not in the eyes of Akielos and Vere, but to you. What can I do?”

* * *

Damen didn’t know what to think. He’d come to the bath anticipating a relaxing time together, intimacy and warm words, not a fight. This felt like another conversation that would go in circles if they didn’t get straight to the point. Damen felt he’d already explained what he wanted, but Laurent refused to listen.

“Send him away,” Damen said, though he felt guilty doing so. “Not forever, but he can’t be your advisor right now. The only people who could possibly know about Fynn are Nikandros and Pallas. Since Pallas was with you, he could not have told Jokaste. That means Nikandros told someone, or told someone enough that Jokaste was able to figure things out on her own—which is more likely. Nikandros would never e so destructive.”

He looked down at the water, that guilt swelling in him a little more.

“And I don’t think that people see me as faithful to you,” Damen admitted. “In fact, I’m quite sure they assume I still sleep with whomever I wish, that you don’t care. Because you give the notion that you do not care, Laurent. In Akielos that sort of arrangement is hardly scandalous, and you act as if you find lovemaking to be a chore. I am sure they think we don’t sleep together at all.”

He sighed.

“That is also why they react so harshly to you,” Damen said. “You seem like you don’t like anyone and you tolerate me—but to hear you snuck away from a party with the Herzog of Kempt? To hear you did something with him to make me angry for weeks? It’s sensational. If I were to do that they would roll their eyes and tut-tut me about my antics. Because they expect unfaithfulness. "

* * *

/Send him away/.

In a time where Laurent was so far from home, in /Akielos/, with a treasonous council and meagre support. Send Fynn away before they even knew the aftermath of Ios, before they were even wed. Send Fynn away.

It hurt more to hear that than to hear people didn’t like him. To be fair, he’d known people didn’t like him coming into this. It was strange that his chastity had led to /him/ being the problem in their eyes, but Laurent couldn’t worry with that right now.

In all honesty, love making still /was/ something like a chore to Laurent. Not all the time! But largely outside of the breath of life Akielos had given him, Laurent still was not so comfortable in the way that an extensive list of lovers could have made him. No, Laurent’s list was /much/ shorter than Damen’s, and so far, he’d not had much luck in it. He’d finally given himself over to someone he wanted, someone he cared for, and he still found himself doubted, and there was no need to think about the first. And he certainly couldn’t do anything about the way people saw him /now/. Not when his relationship was only in the spotlight to /Damen/.

It would take years for the people of Akielos to see Laurent as anything he actually was, especially after the addition of time to their delayed union from what many assumed was an /act of the gods/. And Damen wanted Laurent to lessen his support at a time like /that/.

Laurent had nothing nice to say, so he kept to himself, kept quiet, and gave no indication aside from his minuscule gut reaction to Damen’s ‘solution’ - the smallest crease in his brow, the parting of his lips like he /might/ say something, but he never did.

Two chitons had been left out for Laurent and Damen, both a royal red in colour. Laurent moved to the edge of the bath, stepped out of the water, his eyes affixed on the beautiful room, the view of the ocean, of Isthima. He was so far from Vere, where he had taken such pride in being disliked, in being controversial, in unorthodox. Akielos made him feel culpable, sullied. Damen wasn’t helping.

He pinned the chiton about his shoulder. Laurent had not yet mastered doing it alone, but he’d done /something/ to secure the thing, and that was all he needed. He tied the rope hastily at his waist, his hands shaking just enough to make it difficult, but he still said nothing, just focused on dressing himself, on distancing himself from /this/. He needed to be alone, needed to isolate and /think/.

* * *

“Laurent…” Damen attempted to call him back, but ultimately gave up. This was why he hated discussing these things. He told Laurent what he wanted and Laurent got upset with him. It wasn’t productive for anyone, and he didn’t know how to fix it. Sending Fynn away was what Damen wanted, and it wasn’t his fault that Laurent didn’t like that answer.

“Make sure you have someone with you if you leave the palace,” Damen called. “Please.”

He couldn't lose Laurent to an opportunistic assassin now. Damen desperately wanted to follow just for protection, but an angry Laurent was an even greater danger to himself.

He didn’t leave the baths for some time. Damen soaked until his skin wrinkled, then he slowly emerged from the bath and dressed. An attendant informed him that no boats had returned to Ios, but he headed back toward the camp anyway to see if Laurent had returned, or if anyone had actually followed him or if Damen needed to sent a group of guards to find him.

Though he supposed if he found Fynn, Laurent might not be far behind.


	23. Chapter 23

Laurent did turn and listen to Damen, even if he did not acknowledge he had heard him.

He was not exactly /angry/. Not at Damen anyway. No, he was processing, something Laurent had done alone all of his life and had such begun to believe it was the only way he could work through things: alone. He didn’t have his own room here, didn’t even really know where he would go to be alone, but he knew that was what he needed. He needed to think, and he simply couldn’t do it as he and Damen had been.

Laurent hadn’t wanted to fully leave Damen or the palace, but he only knew the one path, so he followed it, padding through the sand on feet he should have wrapped back up before heading out, but that was an afterthought Laurent did not have time to address.

Attendants did chase him down, did try to stop and find Laurent a proper escort, but he dismissed the efforts, left the city alone and found his way back to the beach that he knew to find a familiar spot.

No one tried to kill him. No one could be bothered by the Veretian king just now. Jord, of course, watched him from afar, and many stared as they passed from up the beach, but no one cared enough to bother him. Not when he was a sitting all to himself, just to the left of the Isthiman flagship. It was the last docked ship at the moment, and Laurent had sat himself just where he’d sat when he realised Damen might not be returning to him the first time, right when he thought his worst fears imagined were real, when he thought he’d lost Damen for good.

Of course, then it had been a storm, a quake, the fire. Now the force that threatened Damen’s return was...Laurent himself.

No one bothered him. Even in the red chiton that called attention to him, it seemed Laurent managed to exude something that could keep people at bay. To anyone watching, Laurent was merely enjoying the view, enjoying the quiet and the peace. He’d exhausted his emotions back in the baths. He needed time to think /logically/. He needed to...fix this. He needed to solve the one problem he had control of.

Even if he felt he had no control over it.

* * *

Damen was surprised to ind Fynn assisting Nikandros in meeting with the nobles of Isthima. Apparently they knew him from prior visits with traders, so they had already warmed to him. Of course. Damen had to force himself not to stomp over and start into a tirade for no reason. But at least he recognized that it was for no reason.

When he found Laurent, he was far off, sitting alone by the sea.

“Exalted,” Jord greeted. “He’s been sitting here since his return. Do you need assistance?”

Damen knew there were eyes on him all around the camp. His limp was so bad he could hardly stand, and the wound on his thigh was angry, the stitches stretching. Leopold had yet to see him, and Damen was sure he would be scolded once he was found.

Damen ultimately ignored the question and continued up the beach, wincing with each step between the pain of his unbandaged feet and the pull of his stab wound.

He didn’t say anything when he reached Laurent, he merely lowered himself to sit beside him in the sand, their red chitons flapping in the wind. Red was a very good color on Laurent—with his golden hair it made him look like a living symbol of Akielos.

Yet Damen felt Laurent would take that as an insult right now, so he reclined to his elbows, watching the black waves roll in, the dark smog still clouding the horizon far too close for comfort.

* * *

Laurent did not acknowledge Damen right away. He knew Damen’s presence well, knew it had been him approaching, and did not feel the need to acknowledge him. It had nothing to do with Laurent’s mood as much as it had to do with the desire to keep the tranquility of what he’d created out here. Laurent had been alone for some time on the shore, able to think and to process like he was most comfortable.

Sometimes, Laurent just /needed/ to be alone. Despite how much he had grown with Damen, he was still quite stunted when it came to /sharing/ feelings, emotions, thoughts and plans. He’d not magically undone everythinh that had been a response to living under his uncle. He’d not magically been given back those years of building wall after wall. Laurent was still young, as much as he wanted to believe he wasn’t.

He would learn to talk it all out one day, when he could navigate emotion and empathy with that sharp tongue of his.

He still needed work.

Work Damen should not have to do for him.

It didn’t take long for Laurent to mirror Damen’s action, to sit back on his hands and, without a word, tip his head to the side to rest on Damen’s shoulder. He’d calmed down, recognised how terrible he’d been, and he hated it.

“I love you,” Laurent murmured, not at all to /appease/ Damen, but to just have it said. No matter how this went, he wanted that known at the very least.

* * *

Laurent finally seemed to relax after watching the waves for awhile. Damen wasn’t surprised when Laurent rested his head against him some time later, but he didn’t reciprocate just yet, in case Laurent needed more time than he was indicating. Sometimes that happened.

“And I love you,” he returned softly. His heart warmed at the confession, though it was nothing new. He loved Laurent, Laurent loved him. Even Fynn couldn’t really shake that knowledge, even when Damen doubted they would stay together, he didn’t necessarily doubt Laurent’s love for him.

He let the waves roll in, deciding not to launch into explanations or an attempt to take back what he said at the baths. Instead he turned his face and pressed a kiss to Laurent’s temple and then rested his head against him.

“Just let me know when you would like to return to our tent,” he said. “I’m not sure we’ll see the ships again today, which is a good thing, I think."

* * *

Laurent did not know that it was a good thing, but it was certainly a good way to spin it. He supposed they couldn’t truly worry about that until they had /something/ to go off of, so Laurent just let out a little hum in agreement, his eyes still out on the sea.

He did not riot know where they were in relation to Ios, to Sicyan, to Marlas. He also did not know that he was quite ready to go on a ship to either of those places. His stomach turned at the very thought, but then, it had been doing that for the past hour or so, thinking about the baths with Damen, about what he was going to do.

Laurent flicked his eyes past Damen’s chest to the tents, watched the people cross this way and that for a moment while his stomach did another turn.

He turned his eyes back to the waves.

“You should go to the tent,” Laurent said a moment later, turning his head to kiss Damen’s shoulder. “I need a bit more time, if I could.”

* * *

“Don’t stay out too long,” Damen murmured, retuning a kiss to Laurent’s temple. He tried not to be disheartened that Laurent wasn’t yet done contemplating, but he said nothing else about it. Instead, Damen slowly got to his feet, wincing as he stretched out his blisters and burns. 

“I’m going to have Leopold see to my feet,” he explained. Then he headed to the tent. 

Leopold was not pleased with what he saw when Damen entered, and immediately began tending to his wounds. Nikandros entered soon after to catch him up on what he had missed. The ships were not yet back, but most of the survivors on the island had seen medical care. The next step was transporting the most vulnerable survivors to a safer location. 

“I’ll discuss it with Laurent,” Damen agreed. “Please make sure to tell Tiberius that we are both grateful for the opportunity to bath today.”

“I will,” Nikandros said with a small smile. It was clear he knew something else had happened at the baths. “Are you…Is everything all right?”

Damen nodded. “Yes, Nik. But if you could ask for the braziers to be filled—if we have the means.”

Nikandros hesitated. 

Damen nodded once. “Forget it. Keep the supplies for someone else. We’ll be fine.”

He didn’t mind a chill, especially if it kept him closer to Laurent through the night. 

* * *

Laurent wasn’t trying to hide what he was doing. It just happened that the moment he was ready to move, Damen had been out of sight. It just so happened that when he poked his head into Fynn’s tent, the woman and the child were both asleep, unable to act as chaperone.

Laurent did try to clear his throat as he entered, but neither the woman or Cosmas stirred.

He supposed he did not really want a audience for this anyway.

“Fynn,” he whispered in greeting, ducking into the tent before nodding towards the entrance. He wanted to talk to him, but perhaps unchaperoned was not the best way to go about it - as much as that irked Laurent.

He wanted to be able to talk to Fynn, wanted to parse out what had happened in the baths in quiet, wanted his thoughts on it, wanted to hear what Auguste might have done.

But this was not all about what /he/ wanted.

“Do you have a moment?”

* * *

Fynn was awake, poring over a map of Isthima, trying to discern the best route for what he hoped would be a constant stream of survivors from Ios. When Laurent appeared at his tent, Fynn instantly felt the tug of worry. he’d seen Laurent sitting on the beach, but knew better than to approach. To have him come now was concerning.

“Of course,” he said softly. He set the maps aside and rose to his feet. “Are you all right?” he asked.

He wasn’t sure Damen was involved, but that was usually the reason Laurent was upset nowadays. But he didn’t ask about that, he simply stepped out of the tent with Laurent, tempted to touch him, to make sure he wasn’t in pain.

“What is it?” he asked. “You can tell me anything, you know that."

* * *

Laurent did know that. It was why he kept Fynn around, why he fought so hard to keep Fynn by his side. He needed the unbiased opinions, needed someone unafraid to check him, his pride, his ego. Laurent needed Fynn to talk to, to help him, to /advise/ him. It is for those reasons that he can’t just get rid of his late brother’s best friend, his /only/ friend outside of Damen.

Why couldn’t anyone else see that?

“It’s nothing,” Laurent murmured, but his defensive stance said otherwise. His eyes on the shore said otherwise. “Another argument with Damianos, as expected. He’s...not focused on the real matters at hand, and I believe he is...acting out towards what he thinks he can handle in some sort of...hunt for control.”

As Laurent said it, he didn’t believe it. Not all of it, anyway. No, he was stalling, that’s what this was.

“Without the return of the boats, he’s trying to distract himself.” That he believed. “I cannot blame him for that.”

* * *

  
It was not nothing. Fynn wasn’t surprised to hear it was about Damianos. Again. Things didn’t seem as good as Fynn had expected them to be, but he was surprised to hear how horrible they actually were. It made him angry—Damianos had no right to pin his stress about Ios on his relationship with Laurent. What a foolish man he was.

“So he wants to control you?” Fynn asked, not hiding his anger. “Laurent, I warned you about this.”

He glanced around, but there wasn’t anyone to listen. Fynn lowered his voice. “You still have time to abandon this wedding.” He stopped them, stepping in front of Laurent to face him. “Think about it, Laurent. If he is acting out--controlling you--now? He is abusing you. He is trying to /take/ from /you.”

Fynn didn’t want this to be the beginning of a life of pain.

“You deserve so much better than that,” Fynn whispered. “Tell me you know that. Damianos doesn’t have to be your only. There are others. I know that may sound drastic—but look what’s just happened to Ios, Laurent. It is a drastic time."

* * *

  
Laurent did stop when Fynn stepped in front of him, stood still while Fynn spoke under his breath, spoke what Laurent supposed could be considered the truth. It was how he thought on the surface as well, like he was being taken from, like he was being denied what thousands of other had had. What Auguste had had. A friend, an advisor, a bond - something Laurent had so few of.

But this wasn’t about that. No, Laurent would not lose Damen as his future husband, just as he would not lose Fynn as his advisor. He would not give up either.

But he had to be smart about this.

“The ships,” Laurent started, seemingly blowing over what Fynn had said, but it was just as easy to see that this was what he’d been planning to say all along. Laurent wanted to distract himself with work, with his responsibilities, as Damen would rather run from. It was their balance, he supposed. “When we hear the response from Ios, I think...” Laurent turned his eyes to the sand beneath their feet, cleared his throat, did not look back up.

“/I/ think ships should be sent to Sicyan and...Marlas. Ios won’t be able to handle the sheer number of survivors, and I think we need to unburden the capitol as we can.”

He and Damen had not even discussed this yet, had been too busy arguing about /Fynn/. Always Fynn. Laurent’s one friend he had, the one person he could trust to listen to him, to tell him the /truth/.

“We can send Akielons to Sicyan and the other border cities while we see to reparations in Ios. And...” Laurent cleared his throat again, turned his eyes upwards, but somewhere past Fynn, as if distracted by the people still strolling the beach. “We should send the Veretians to Marlas. We should have Veretian presence there.”

Laurent’s brow was furrowed, concentrated, and the way his cheek sucked in on one side gave proof he was worrying at his lip. He was not trying to hide it, did not feel the need to with Fynn. With Fynn, he could focus on the problem at hand. He didn’t have to worry about how he looked, didn’t feel like he had anything to approve. With Fynn, he could just /solve problems/.

He could.

“And I think you should go with them.”

* * *

It took Fynn several moments to understand what Laurent was asking. He agreed that taking survivors to Maras or Sicyan was a good choice. People needed to be taken someplace safe, someplace inland that could provide adequate food and shelter while Isthima took the brunt of the new victims. He also agrees that a Veretian presence in Marlas would be more important than ever right now.

But sending him to take up that presence was something else.

“I think that would be a terrible idea,” Fynn said. “You just said Damianos is trying to control you. Who will protect you if he continues? If I take the council with me you will have no one looking after you.”

Leaving Laurent vulnerable in such a tumultuous time was just asking for trouble.

“I want to stay here,”’ he said. “Please Laurent. If anything were to happen to you—I want to stay here. If only for your protection."

* * *

“/You/ said Damianos is trying to control me,” Laurent corrected Fynn lightly. It wasn’t something he’d wanted to argue about, not something he’d even planned to address.  
No, he’d spent his time alone on the beach trying to figure out /this/ - how to keep Fynn as his advisor, but also Damen as his husband - and this was what he had coke to. He trusted Fynn, trusted him to speak for Laurent in regards to Vere, in regards to his council, trusted Fynn to do right by him, even if it was from miles and miles away. He trusted Fynn with this.

“Damen will protect me. He’s proven himself more than capable of it. You know that.”

Laurent was visibly unhappy, but he was at least resolute in this, addressing it as he had to, as he knew to: with responsibility and logic over emotion.

He wouldn’t be alone. He’d have Damen, and that was enough for him. He’d gone years and years with less support, after all.

“I want you in Marlas,” Laurent repeated, still soft, but decidedly. “I need you in Marlas. I have no right to make decisions in Ios, so I’ll not be in need of advising, but I will need eyes and ears in Marlas. I need someone I trust there.”

Laurent cleared his throat, lifted his eyes to Fynn, brow still creased as he worked through this himself still. He /had/ functioned well enough with less support before, but he’d also enjoyed /having/ this support. Sending Fynn away would not be a permanent parting - he would have the support back soon enough - but he did recognise what he was losing in sending him away /now/.

But it was a good plan.

“Please don’t force me to make it an order.”

* * *

“You said he was hunting for control,” Fynn returned sourly. “Who better to control than a king without jurisdiction in his country?” 

His mood soured further when he could tell Laurent wouldn’t change his decision. Fynn had half a mind to argue that he wasn’t under Laurent’s control, but that of Kempt. He could stay if he so pleased. But he didn’t want Laurent to feel that he had lost another ally in this, or that his word was not as strong as his. 

“/You/ should be in Marlas,” he said. “Step aside and let Damianos put the pieces together until he can join you. The Akielons would respect you for itt, especially if you send supplies. No one would see it as you running, I promise you that. I would make sure of it.”

Lauren belonged in a palace, not here among dirty men and tents. 

“Please, Laurent. Please consider leaving.” he cleared his throat. “I will worry myself to death—Damianos has just lost his home, his people. That can do things to a man and make him lash out far worse than you expect."

* * *

“I will not leave them,” Laurent replied as evenly as he could. He’d not raised his voice once, did not feel the need to, but this was not exactly an easy conversation to have. It would rise to a point where he did escalate should this argument continue.

“Supplies can still be sent while I am in Ios,” Laurent went on, a little more quietly this time as an Akielon couple passed. They did try to surreptitiously take in the young king of Vere, but there was nothing unkind said or done to him. “You could assist me in setting up the shipment, getting it to those in need. While also keeping an eye on my council...”

That would be a necessity.

“Damianos and I cannot put the union off for much longer. We would need a week in Ios at most,” Laurent /bargained/ with Fynn, though he still had not abandoned his decision. “We will set the preparations under way, and we will return to Marlas for the union so as to free those visitors. He understands as well as I that we cannot stop everything for this.”

It hardly seemed unheard of, nor did Laurent think he was being unreasonable.

“This is the best plan, Fynn. For everyone. It’s bigger than Damianos and myself.” Though that was Laurent’s primary focus. “Please,” he murmured, eyes up on Fynn again, large and genuine. “Please go to Marlas and let me handle my soon to be husband.”

* * *

“It may be the best plan for the kingdom, but I’m not sure it is the best plan for you,” Fynn said quietly, but he let out a sigh that indicated he would relent. But he still didn’t think it was a good idea. Fynn didn’t see any issue in handling the council or coordinating supplies, but not being able to look after Laurent made him nervous. 

“Fine,” he said. “But I want you to write me. Often. If he lays a hand on you, you must tell me and I’ll come. And if I don’t hear from you for a fortnight, I’m coming to find you.”

He wasn’t going to leave anything to chance this time. Not when Damen had just lost everything. 

“And I want you to know that I’m only doing this because I care for you so much, Laurent,” Fynn said quietly. “I’m going against my better judgement because you’re /asking/ me to.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then turned away to be at Laurent’s side again as they continued walking. 

“If you do go to Ios, you need to be careful. People enjoy preying on those at a disadvantage. Whether it be the land, the comunity, or just a moment of exhaustion,” Fynn warned. “Keep a guard with you at all times, do you understand? This is not the time to be rebellious."

* * *

Laurent visibly relaxed.

He had enough resistance right now, and he would never truly be able to communicate his gratitude to Fynn for working with him. This was important, needed to happen, as Laurent already understood this was the best decision for both kingdom and himself. In the long run, it would be worth it. Losing that support would be difficult, but it was only a few days. Damen would not snap or harm him /ever/, let alone for a few days. Laurent did not share that worry with Fynn.

“Thank you,” Laurent murmured as they walked, wanting at least the most base of his gratitude known.

“Jord and Nikandros will be in Ios with us,” Laurent went on to assure Fynn as they walked on. The sun had begun to set below the horizons, casting colours about the shore Vere never had - another indicator of how far from home Laurent was. “I’ll be kept safe. I’m not sending /every/ Veretian back.”

Laurent knew better than that, at least.

“And I will write as I can, but I do hope to be a.../presence/ in Ios for this. I want to be hands on with it as I was for Vere.” Laurent still had an impression to make, and assisting with Ios would be as good a time as any.

“I will benefit greatly from your presence in Marlas during this time.” Both in his politician presence and his relationship. “There are just...things I still have to handle alone.”

* * *

Fynn shook his head. "I don’t care if i is only a scribble. I want a note from you. If I don’t hear from you in a fortnight, I’m coming here,” Fynn reiterated. “You can spare me a few moments to ensure me you haven’t died. As you advisor, I demand it as a matter of kingdom security.”

He would not lose track of Laurent and return to find him dead.

He refused to believe this was a good idea, not when they hadn’t heard anything from the ships yet. they had no idea how Ios had fared during the explosion. He also knew that thieves and other sorts would be among the rubble already, pillaging Damen’s prized jewels, gold, and anything else they could fine.

“Damianos—“

He noticed movement, pausing to watch as Lazar trotted toward him. He looked horrible.

“You Majesty,” Lazar greeted with a bow. “King Damianos has sent for you. He became concerned when you left the beach.”

Fynn gave Lazar a close-lipped smile. “We were just headed back.”

Lazar nodded once. “I’ll tell him.”

When Lazar left, Fynn didn’t move to follow.

“I suppose you should go back without me. Can’t have your betrothed getting upset."

* * *

Laurent supposed writing was an easy enough task, even with being as hands on as he desired. He would write if it meant keeping things easy for just a few days. He would make the time. Fynn made just as a compelling argument as Luther believed he himself had, and he would give in to us advisor where it was due.

And perhaps Fynn had been on the verge of another request, but Lazar interrupted him, and Laurent could instantly understand why he’d not seen him in days. Jord must have been in great need to call Lazar into duty right now, but Laurent could imagine no one in his limited guard has been prepared for.../this/.

Laurent could not imagine how Lazar was feeling.

“I will be just there,” Laurent assured Lazar alongside Fynn before he was sent on his way. Laurent knew he would have to explain this, but perhaps the actual contents of the conversation would please Damen enough to clear him of /this/ misdeed.

“Prepare your trip for Marlas,” Laurent told Fynn, breezing past any mention of Damen now. “I would have you with my council during the announcement of delay of my union. You’ll also be most appreciated for charming the guests, answering any questions you feel fitting about my whereabouts. And keeping my council in check, if you would. They may need assistance in standing behind their king.”

Laurent let out a little huff that sounded like an aborted continuation of what he was saying. Whatever it had been, he’d lost it promptly when he looked up to Fynn once more, found his gaze.

This would all be very difficult without Fynn’s support.

“Jeurre is a good man. Vannes is...not, but she does have good intentions,” he went on instead, thinking it more productive right now than saying, ‘I’ll miss you.’

“I will see you off when the time comes.”

And Laurent offered his hand for a platonic shake - something so distanced from their usual hugs.

* * *

A handshake. Fynn looked down at Laurent’s hand as though he were going to be handed something instead. Then he reluctantly extended his hand and gave a firm shake.

“I’ll miss your company,” he said, because he thought Laurent should know. There was much to do before he could leave, and that included a lot of talking with Akielons and Veretians alike to organize who would be coming to Marlas. The council would be all too happy to leave Laurent to fend for himself, and he had a feeling many Akielons would see no issue with it either.

Fynn didn’t say anything else before bowing his head and heading off to find Tiberius, and hopefully Nikandros. They had much to discuss if this was going to work as Laurent wanted it to.

That, and he didn’t want to think about what Damianos might do in his absence. Laurent—for a man so wary of others—simply put too much trust in a king barely proven. Yes, Damianos was a good man, but good men spoiled when they were exposed to enough trauma. Good men became paranoid. Good men became evil.

And he would be in Marlas while Laurent was stuck with a festering man.

* * *

Laurent wouldn’t have left had Fynn not left first. He’d been stuck in a stalemate with himself, unsure how to move forward. Should he admit he would also miss Fynn’s company, most of all because he would /need/ it.

Without Fynn, Laurent had...his guard, and only that aside from Damen. In a time of great peril, Laurent would have liked to have all the support he could, but the support that mattered was that for his country. Fynn would be taking care of that, along with his council and Laurent would just be...supporting Damen. And he’d come out of it with a stronger relationship at the very least.

He hoped, anyway.

And he couldn’t see why he wouldn’t! He was doing precisely what was asked of him, learning to love and to show love and to support a country that would be his own, taking initiative and sacrifice to show he was a fine leader. A /great/ leader.

He’d done more with less support.

“I will write,” Laurent did call after him, not too loud, but loud enough for Fynn to hear. “And I will see you in Marlas.”

Soon.

Laurent headed back to his tent, passing through a bit quickly as the wind began to pick up with the evening ocean breeze. Up in the palace, it did not bother him so, but on the flat beach with nothing to break it, it reminded him a little too much of Arles.

“Did you think the ocean had taken me away?” Laurent asked as he entered through the flap of the tent, sending a gust of wind about the place.

* * *

Damen was impatient for Laurent to return. The shipmen called for a storm, and the cold wind was beginning to blow through camp. Still no Laurent. Damen had looked at the beach himself, and sure enough, his betrothed was gone. He told himself it was for good reason. He just had to trust.

And send for someone to make sure Laurent was actually in camp.

He started to get worried when he didn’t hear back from any guards. He was just starting to put on his sandals when Laurent entered, sending a wave of relief through him.

“I thought your mind had taken you away,” Damen admitted, allowing his shoulders to sag and relax. “A storm is coming and I asked for only one brazier to be kept alight. They need the supplies for the rest of camp—I hope you don’t mind. I’m told I’m quite warm.”

His brow furrowed at the look on Laurent’s face. Damen held out his arms.

“Is something wrong, my love? You look troubled."

* * *

One brazier on a stormy night in the Akielon spring. Laurent had survived the cold of winter in Arles with Fynn at his side for less, and the Herzog did not have the same muscle and warmth Damen had. They would make it out fine. Laurent certainly didn’t mind it.

If anything, he was grateful for a reason he and Damen would have to be close tonight. It was, after all, what he had just based his difficult decision off of. He would haha given his life for Damen just months ago, and he still would if asked to do so now. Death was swift. It did not come with the guilt Laurent felt now, did not span itself for days and days.

But it would be worth it.

“I put my energy into planning,” Laurent murmured as he crossed to Damen, folded right into his chest, head turned into the red of Damen’s matching chiton. “I’ve put plans into place to alleviate the Veretian strain on Ios, set motions to arrangements to send those unfit to work and assist back to Marlas and Arles, which will then inform those in Marlas awaiting our union as to our current dilemma.”

Laurent had actually done more than he had even realised in sending Fynn away.

Perhaps it truly had been the right thing to do.

He lifted his head, attempted to smile up at Damen, but it was tight. 

“I bought us a fortnight at most, but...something has to be done.” 

* * *

Damen always felt safer with Laurent in his arms. He held him close, buried his nose in the scent of seasalt in Laurent’s blond hair. Of course Laurent went planning when most men in his position would have been more focused on dinner. That was never Laurent.

“Dilemma?” Damen asked. “There is a dilemma concerning our union?”

They were still to be wed, as far as he was concerned. Obviously at a later date, but Damen didn’t consider that a dilemma. It wasn’t like they could get married on schedule, so what was there to decide?

“Once we find out the state of my home, we will have a better idea,” Damen assured, stroking Laurent’s hair. “No matter how horrible, I do not think anyone will think it rude of us to go to Marlas. Then once we’re married, we can return.”

He winced. “I mean—if it is all right with you to postpone our honeymoon.” He didn’t know what Laurent felt about all of that.

“And perhaps an excuse not to endure the Veretian ceremonies.”

* * *

“There is a dilemma in our guests,” Laurent corrected Damen. “There are hundreds from Vere, Akielos, Kempt, Patras and Vask that are in Marlas, exhausting it’s resources, as they were expecting a union days ago.”

Many would leave, Laurent gathered. Those who did not so fully support the union, those who did not care to see the momentous joining of Vere and Akielos, would undoubtedly leave when faced with the inconvenience. Marlas was not yet a city meant for crowds like that. Delpha had been at one time, but there was no telling what had happened to it under Akielon rule. Laurent had not been there enough.

“And I would ask you stop trying to upheave Veretian traditions right now,” Laurent went on, slipping out of the hug to move closer to the brazier. At least in Arles they had the clothing for such chill. The chiton was not much. “At least wait until my council has gone. I’ve upset them enough.” And Laurent didn’t have the time.

Damen should well have known that Laurent would not put his honeymoon before his country. It was how Laurent had always functioned, putting himself second to his responsibilities. He’d already done it once today.

Laurent frowned for a moment, stuck on that thought, but fixed his face not a moment later, pulling his hands from the brazier to turn back to Damen and hold his cheeks, warming his face, touching.

* * *

“The guests, right,” Damen sighed. His mind was not on guests. It was on his home and Laurent, those two things only. Despite his ignorance of many things, Damen was not ignorant to the gossip about Laurent, the way doubt was growing due to the timing of the explosion. He would not have it. He understood they needed to secure their marriage sooner rather than later. 

But perhaps he’d gone too far. Laurent seemed insulted that he didn’t want to be part of the Veretian ceremony after the wedding. 

“Laurent…”

Already he’d failed somehow. What had started as a perfectly decent conversation was souring faster than Damen could try to fix it. When Laurent turned back to him, Damen could recognize that he was in pain. Surely talking about the wedding wasn’t the source?

“Do you want to go to Marlas?” Damen asked quietly. “I could stay here and manage things, you could attend tot he guests. The presence of a king would assuage their restlessness, I think.”

He absolutely didn’t want Laurent to leave, but he didn’t want Laurent to be in pain either. 

“Akielos is more prepared than you think,” Damen added. “Wedding celebrations of this size can last for two months. A few weeks will not upend the supplies. They have been preparing for a year."

* * *

Laurent did not want to go to Marlas. Certainly not without Damen. Politics still stood there, and without Damen, Laurent would have no standing whatsoever. Fynn’s presence there would be that of a guest, working with the Veretians to make them comfortable while their king was away. Laurent needed Damen by his side as much as he desired it, especially in times like this.

“Veretians are not so patient,” Laurent murmured, turning his hands over and touching the other sides to Damen’s face. He wasn’t cold for what Laurent could feel, but he just wanted to touch, wanted to feel Damen.

This would all be worth it. Laurent had fewer and fewer doubts as the second ticked away. He still did not like how it all was happening, but he supposed he could work around it. Fynn’s support - the support of a friend - would have been helpful, but in moments like this, Laurent had all he needed.

“Fynn will see to Marlas,” Laurent informed Damen as detached as he could, and he managed it pretty well. “I’ve asked him to go on the first boat, to make sure all decisions are kept in line with what I want and with our allies in Kempt’s desires.”

The second part was not true at all, had not even been taken into consideration, but Laurent was still selling the idea to himself.

“I think he has strengths that will he appreciated there in these times.”

* * *

Damen looked over Laurent’s face, worrying his lower lip. He hated to feel like he was causing any pain to Laurent, and where his touch normally settled him and turned his mind to softer things, Damen couldn’t be dissuaded this time. The wedding was already a touchy subject now that it had been postponed. But to have Laurent so upset—

About Fynn. Hearing his name and watching the lack of reaction on Damen’s face said it all. It also explained where Laurent had been, why he wasn’t at the beach.

Hurt closed up his throat. This was what he wanted, but he’d imagined something more…not this.

Of course, Laurent had done exactly as asked—a miracle in itself—yet Damen couldn’t stop thinking about how Laurent had told him to go back to the tent and wandered off to find /Fynn/.

/To make him leave/, he reminded himself. /To get rid of him./

“I agree,” Damen said weakly, his voice threatening to break. He hated Fynn with everything he had—even if he was a good man, even if he was trying to help. To Damen, Fynn had stolen something from Laurent that was once his, and he wasn’t ever going to get it back.

He hated that the source of Laurent’s dampened mood was saying goodbye to Fynn.

Damen gently clasped his hand around Laurent’s wrists. “We should go to bed. Best to be under the blankets before the wind gets bad.

Rain began to patter on the canvas overhead, as if on cue. He hoped there were no holes in their roof that would leak on the bed.

“Have more faith in our union,” he added quietly. “Even those who do not approve of it would sooner die than miss the most important social event of our generation."

* * *

Damen had a point, but Laurent already had enough doubt to overcome without the addition of a postponed wedding. Even with Ios in flames, he had no doubt there was someone out there already hypothesising Vere’s involvement, and where Laurent did not care about /his/ reputation in it, he did care how they might look at Damen, how they might think of /him/ because of it.

Damen could set his sights on Ios. Laurent would handle everything outside of it. That was what a partnership was. Teamwork.

Laurent raised his eyes to the tent’s ceiling the moment the rain began, watching the shadows create little pools and then trails as the wind blew the rain off the tent’s surface. He hoped this weather passed before any ships departed.

“It also gives them more time on their plot to kill one of us,” Laurent reminded Damen with a perfunctory tap to his chest. It might have been a joke, probably was, but it was almost as if Laurent had realised he might be right in saying it in the way he trailed off, still tapping at Damen’s chest.

“We /should/ go to bed,” Laurent mumbled, taking the initiative to lead the way.

* * *

“No one is going to kill us, Laurent,” Damen sighed. He understood where Laurent’s fears came from—and he had not forgotten Korus—but an assassin would have a far easier time hunting them down here than in Marlas just before their wedding. Damen still didn’t see the swaths of enemies waiting in every darkened corner as Laurent did.

Damen undid the strings of his chiton in the few steps it took to reach the bed and let it drop to the sand with an unceremonious /thwop./ The brazier blazed nearby, and Damen was glad for it as the wind began to lick at the ten flaps. He hoped Tiberius’s men knew how to properly stake a tent in sand.

Normally he would be covering Laurent in gentle kisses by now, but Damen simply crawled into bed after his betrothed, eyeing the tent flap behind Laurent as it strained against the wind.

“You should sleep closest to the fire,” Damen said. “Can’t have you freezing—“

A loud crack of thunder shook the ground, and Damen immediately panicked, leaping to cover Laurent, to protect him from raining fire and fallen debris.

Of course, there was none as Damen curled himself over Laurent, still frightened.

“Are you hurt?” he choked out, fighting to control his breath. He knew logically that it was just thunder, but his body reacted on instinct, still terrified from the explosion. How he’d nearly lost Laurent then. How he lost Jokaste.

“Tell me you’re not hurt,” he tried again. “I know you aren’t, but tell me."

* * *

The movement into bed had been unceremonious, but since Ios, it wasn’t as if they’d had any other expectations. Days had passed in Isthima, every one ageing them /years/, exhausting them, driving them down. Laurent did not expect kisses, did not expect his body to be at all lavished with any sort of attention. He’d expected them both to curl up for warmth, expected talks of Ios, of plans, until Damen fell asleep—

So when a crack of thunder put Laurent in a cage made of Damen’s body, lying flat on his back, Laurent was more than a little startled. He’d raised his hands between them, had them planted firmly on Damen’s shoulders, unsure if /Damen/ had been the one injured.

But his hands slipped away as he realised what had actually just happened.

“I’m not hurt,” Laurent whispered as calmly as he could to Damen, lifting his hands this time to place them on Damen’s face, to hold his cheeks, to focus him /here/, to ground him. “I’m not hurt. It was just thunder, Damen. Nothing more.”

Laurent’s heart was racing, and though he was doing his best to focus on Damen, he could not help but check over his betrothed’s shoulder, could not help but to be certain that no fire had begun to rain down on their tent.

They passed a long moment like that, just waiting, but the only indications of any activity were the crackling brazier, the spattering of rain, the low rumble that followed the initial crack of thunder. Otherwise, it was quiet.

Laurent relaxed, thumbed at Damen’s cheek in an attempt to bring him down as well.

“No one’s hurt,” he assured Damen with confidence. “It’s just the weather.”

* * *

Damen had never been so scared of a storm before. He gulped down breaths, his heart threatening to burst from his chest. Laurent’s hands calmed him in a way they hadn’t just moments before, and Damen held his gaze to remind himself that they were in Isthima, safe from any fire. There were no walls to fall on them, no crumbling marble.

Even so, he couldn’t move. He was stuck there, every muscle taut. There was a low rumble of thunder, then only the sounds of wind against canvas and the spray of rain pelting down outside. No screaming, no sizzle of fire burning flesh, no rush of heat from smoke and flame.

“I know,” he whispered, settling back on his heels. He scrubbed his face with his hands for a moment, then hurriedly crawled under the covers as though that would make him safer.

Damen snuggled closer to Laurent, burying his nose in Laurent’s neck. He wouldn’t have allowed him to go to Marlas, not when there was still so much uncertainty. Not when they needed to be together, to stay safe and sane.

* * *

Laurent held Damen for the time it took to relax his muscles, for the tension to melt away under little rubs and pats, kisses and squeezes. He played in Damen’s hair, kissed the crown of his head, and otherwise stayed quiet.

But Laurent let his eyes stray again and again to the tent itself, just making sure that the dancing lights he saw were just from the brazier in the centre of the room and nothing more.

That was the case.

Laurent was in no way equipped to handle all of this. Like Damen, he would have to navigate it all day by day, hour by hour. The destruction of homes, of nerves, of lives, and all in between. Laurent would need to focus, be kind, would need to make sure Damen was well as well, that he was in the position to do his best as king.

He had to have some faith he could do that alone.

“Go to sleep,” he urged Damen with another soft kiss. The wind was picking up, but it wasn’t anything that worried Laurent. These were the winds of a passing storm, not a gale or something so bad as the night he’d almost lost Damen to the water. They would be fine.

* * *

Damen’s heart was still pounding in his ears even after he’d settled into Laurent’s side. Every noise outside made him nervous for a half a second before he recognized that it was just sounds of the storm. He knew he was safe, but the memory of the explosion was too fresh in his mind—his body was reacting before he could think to do so himself.

“I can’t sleep now,” Damen laughed weakly, adjusting himself against the pillows. He took Laurent’s hand and guided it to his chest to feel his racing heart.

The air was getting noticeably colder as the storm came in. Horses whinnied in the distance, and there were murmurings as people sought shelter outside. Damen appreciated the sounds of civilization, of a camp full of people alive and making do.

More thunder growled, but Damen wasn’t so frightened this time. He merely squeezed Laurent a little tighter to him, twining their legs together under the covers.

“I forgot to say how beautiful you looked in red,” Damen said quietly. “It isn’t fair, you look good in any color."

* * *

Laurent frowned when he felt just how quickly Damen’s heart was going, but he kept his hand there, lightly running his fingertips back and forth over the spot as if he might be able to calm it. Laurent wasn’t so sure he was helping, but he continued on anyway.

“Red is a difficult colour to find in Vere,” Laurent replied just as quietly, his hand still on Damen’s chest. He’d enjoyed feeling the rumble of Damen’s voice when he spoke. “We don’t have the dyes to make the colour and your cloth merchants have not been very generous over the years.” He smiled at his own wry joke there, before repositioning himself so it was his head on Damen’s chest, listening to his stabilising heart.

“And also thank you,” Laurent whispered, pressing a kiss to Damen’s chest. “It took you long enough to say it.”

Laurent kissed Damen’s chest again, scratched lightly at his chest, just ghosting his nails over the skin there. Damen was incredibly warm under their covers, an absolute furnace of a man, and Laurent remained untouched by the cold because of it. He was grateful.

* * *

Laurent’s lips were warm against his skin, calming him far more than any other touch. The storm closed in on the beach around them, sending winds through every crevice of the tent. The rain pelted the canvas with the force of the gales and Damen hoped that nothing fell down in the night. He wasn’t sure he would ever sleep again if they woke to their home crashing down on them a second time.

“I can ensure you’re seen in red for the rest of your days, if you’d like,” Damen murmured as another rumble of thunder tore through camp. He felt bad for whoever was posted as guard.

“Try to sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow will be busy day, I am sure.”

He didn’t see himself sleeping anytime soon. He still felt too exposed out here on the beach, more so with the weather threatening to tear their tent from the ground.

“If you rest, I’ll keep watch. Then I’ll sleep when you wake,” he offered, knowing full well how stubborn Laurent could be. “It would help us both feel safer, I think."

* * *

“You really should sleep,” Laurent murmured, not quite liking Damen’s offer. “If tomorrow will be such a long day, you need the rest you can get.”

He would have said it was just a storm again, but /he/ knew how stubborn /Damen/ could be.

“Try to sleep,” Laurent did say again, kissing Damen’s cheek before curling into him, resting over him, one arm sling around his waist, holding Damen close.

Laurent was used to sleeping in storms, and once he’d recognised this as just that - a storm and nothing more - he found the means to relax. It wasn’t the hail of Arles, the strong winds of his tower, but it was close enough. The only bit of it that threatened to wake Laurent was the thunder, which Arles did not get too much of.

But he slept, curled into Damen, even when it made him sweat from the heat. He slept even though, periodically, he did wake with the the thunder, did look up and around to check on Damen, but it didn’t stop him from slipping right back into sleep, resting through the storm.


	24. Chapter 24

Damen appreciated the way Laurent slept on him more than any words could say. The pressure of his hold was a reminder that Laurent was a safe, still here and breathing. He probably should have sought out Cosmas, but Damen had been too focused on finding Laurent before the storm.

Slept caught up with him at a few points in the night, but he never slept long before he jerked awake, murmuring soft apologies to Laurent. The rain and wind continued all night, but by morning Damen felt at least somewhat rested.

Murky grey light began to illuminate the east side of the tent, indicating the day had begun. He trailed his finger up and down the length of Laurent’s spine, kissing the crown of his head every so often. He wanted to spend the morning like this, loosely tangled up in each other, warm and pliant.

Rain still pattered above and there was a leak at the far end of the tent, but they were dry on their side.

“We survived another night,” he whispered, wishing that statement didn’t ring so true. They were kings, they shouldn’t have to suffer.

“At least, I assume I have not lost you to sleep completely."

* * *

Laurent had been awake for some time, just passing between closed and opened eyes, listening to the rain outside their tent. It would undoubtedly be a cold rain, a miserable day, but they had, in fact, survived another. Just as Damen had said.

“I would rather sleep this day away than go outside,” Laurent confessed, voice thick with the sleep he’d left behind to have this conversation. “But I know I’ll not be so lucky.”

A boat should return today. And if not returning, a boat should be leaving today or later in the evening. They needed to relive Isthima of Veretian care, needed to give them their island back. The ceremony in Marlas needed to be seen to.

Fynn had to go.

“Did you get any rest?” Laurent asked, moving his hair out of his face and repositioning more comfortably on Damen’s chest.

* * *

“We can try our best with that plan,” Damen agreed, snuggling down in the mattress to prove it. He loved the sound of Laurent’s morning voice, scratchy from a good sleep. It was much better than his tired voice: one Damen knew to take as a warning now.

Now that it was light out, Damen’s eyes suddenly felt heavy.

“Some,” he answered honestly. “But I kept waking up.”

He wouldn’t call it good sleep by any stretch of the word. But yes, it was rest.

“I’m glad you were able to sleep,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “Seeing you so peaceful helped me not to panic again.” He swallowed. “I didn’t mean to be so affected last night.”

He was thankful Laurent had at least understood why, had shared in his momentary fear.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you there."

* * *

“You had every right to be frightened.” Laurent placed another kiss to Damen’s chest, snuggled back into his sleep-warm skin. “I am sure it will be an adjustment all your men will have to make.”

For some, it could take years.

For Damen, it could take years.

He’d lost so much.

“Perhaps the weather will be kinder for our return to Ios.”

Laurent did not look forward to sailing again, but he knew it was the only option for him to get off this island. He dreaded every second of it, especially because he wanted to be there for Damen, knew he would be needed. But Laurent was as useless on the sea as he was when on the ale.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said All the same, pushing up on his elbow to smile down at his husband to be.

He was grateful they were not fighting.

* * *

Yes, all of his men. Damen hadn’t considered that. All of Akielos would be susceptible to thunderstorms and loud noises, any flash of lightning or fire. not everyone had someone like Laurent, someone to care for them. Damen didn’t deny he needed it, he simply gazed up at him lovingly.

“Do I take care of /you/?” Damen asked quietly. Laurent smelled faintly of sweat. At least he hadn’t been cold the night before.

He ran his palm down the length of Laurent’s spine, then pulled the blanket up again to prevent Laurent from getting cold.

“I say we stay right here until someone calls us out,” Damen murmured. “What do you say?"

* * *

“You take care of me,” Laurent assured Damen without hesitation. Damen cared for him in a way only two others had in Laurent’s entire life: Auguste and Fynn. Laurent could say that Damen’s care had also been immense in that he had shown Laurent /so much/ care in their short time together. His love was intense, bright, like a shooting star across the night sky that Laurent hoped went on forever, never dimmed or stopped. He was good to Laurent in ways Auguste has been, in ways Fynn tried to be but never had the chance.

Though Laurent was not so sure Fynn would have ever put up with or endured what Damen had and then decide to /continue/ to care.

Laurent kissed Damen softly, just grateful in the moment for all he had given, all he’d continued to give.

“I think I prefer your plan to mine,” Laurent chuckled, pressed close to Damen again, ready to wait out as long as he needed to. His guess was that they would be interrupted within the hour, but they could lay about until then. Laurent saw no problem with it.

“Let us see how long they can do without us.”

* * *

Damen gratefully accepted the kiss, his first of the day. Hopefully not the last. Physical intimacy had been scarce between them since the explosion. Damen realized he hadn’t bene the best at giving any—but stress created the need to focus on other things.

“I quite enjoy when you get conspiratorial,” Damen purred, tipping Laurent’s chip up for another proper kiss. This one he extended, following it up with another, then a third. The noise of camp began to fall away, giving them a taste of privacy like they’d had in the baths. Time they had wasted.

He missed the taste of Laurent, the feel of their skin pressed together for more than just warmth.

“Will you wear red today?” he asked cheekily. “For me?"

* * *

Lazily kissing in a bed that was not their own, in a tent that was battle worn if only by a storm, sent a pang of reminiscence through Laurent.

When Damen had first weaselled his way into Laurent’s thoughts, his feelings, his affections, they’d been given many a chance just like this. They’d never taken it, obviously. Their physical relationship had found itself in forts and palaces, but Laurent could not help but think back to that small tent in Vask, to what they could have had if Laurent had loved Damen as he did now.

“Then you must enjoy me at all times, day and night,” Laurent jested softly before Damen interrupted him with the kisses, pulling Laurent back into their own little world. He let himself enjoy them, let himself be kissed and kissed languidly and comfortably in return. This was quite nice.

He wished it didn’t have to end, and honestly, did not see why it did.

“I cannot say I have a choice outside of red,” Laurent murmured in response before he was kissing Damen again, chasing after his lips, the comfort and /silence/ they brought for Laurent. Days and days of thinking had begun to wear at the both of them. They both deserved a little quiet.

* * *

“I wish I could,” Damen murmured. He was grateful when Laurent pressed him for continued kisses, and responded in kind. His fingers found heir way into Laurent’s hair, tangling in golden strands. Everything was peaceful, full of love and affection and nothing else.

He opened his legs under the blankets, allowing Laurent to settle with even more contact ad his hands began to wander. Sex wasn’t exactly his plan, but Damen always enjoyed exploring Laurent’s body as intimately as possible.

He loved the way Laurent’s breath ghosted over his lips, warm and close. They way his skin always turned pink with heat whenever they were doing this. It reminded him of their first time, the way Laurent was so unsure and tying his best to hide it, but that blush gave him away.

Of course, it wasn’t long before Damen’s mind was preoccupied with sex, but this time he tried to tamper it down a bit. They were in a very public place with people all around. It was a bit too much for him to think about.

Even so, with Lauren’t settled between his legs like this—

“Have you given any more thought to taking me?” Damen blurted out in an attempt to distract himself. “I’m not suggesting doing so now, but.” He swallowed thickly, his pupils blown wide with lust, he was sure. “I simply wondered."

* * *

They were falling into something familiar that felt so right despite the very wrong setting of it all. The very wrong time of it all. Laurent supposed they both desired a distraction as much as they desires each other, and it settled his brain to think them both on the same page with that. It would be nice to revisit their intimacy, to unwind and relax—

But Damen wasn’t fully relaxing. Laurent knew when he did, when he went all boneless and just melted into Laurent’s touch, when they only tension he had was in his holding back from being too rough with Laurent. This almost felt like that but with more...wariness? Paranoia. Damen was stiff in all the wrong places.

Laurent didn’t take it personally, but he did back off a bit from the path they’d been travelling down, instead opting to kiss Damen’s cheek, his jaw. Laurent even shifted his hips just a few ticks to the side so the contact was not /so/ direct.

Though, he supposed if nothing else would have slowed him down, it would have been Damen’s sudden question.

“Not much since that night,” Laurent replied honestly, lifting his head with an uncomfortable arch to his back to speak properly to Damen. “I am still.../discovering/ things, I think is safe to say, and I was not so sure that...fit me.”

It was truly not until he spoke to Fynn so candidly about his second life with Damen that Laurent had stopped seeing the ‘roles’ that people unknowing of their dynamic would give them. Laurent had believed the men taking the woman’s role to be shameful to an extent - thank his upbringing - and he did not think he could honestly put Damen into that position. Hearing Fynn had been in that same role however? Hearing that it was not a dichotomy of roles? It certainly had him thinking about it again now.

“It is something I could start to think about again.”

* * *

Discovering things. Damen was rather impressed to hear that. Laurent seldom admitted to his virginal qualities, but he supposed it was true that Laurent had been willing to experiment a little more…sort of. Slowly.

“Can I help you discover anything?” Damen asked cheekily, giving Laurent a lazy grin, and following it up with a warm kiss. He quite liked the way Laurent had been mouthing up his jaw. They usually didn’t make it this far before the fucking began.

“You don’t have to,” Damen assured. “But if you want to, then it would be my turn to be virginal.”

A part of him wanted to give Laurent something he had given no one else. It wasn’t that Damen was averse to being fucked, but everyone in bed with him either wasn’t capable of returning the favor or opened their legs before Damen was ever given the opportunity to ask.

He resumed their kissing after that, this time grabbing Laurent’s hips to pull him up his torso to have a more comfortable angle.

“Could you keep quiet?” Damen asked breathlessly a few moments later. “If I fucked you here?”

* * *

Laurent did want to discover things, but he didn’t know /what/ those things were at this moment. Since his arrival at Ios, he’d been pretty preoccupied. Yes, he probably could have thought more about it in Damens chambers, outside on the beach, but he’d hardly had time since. Attempts on his life, fights about Fynn, and an explosion had kept him from doing that.

“Perhaps we should take a day to ourselves after the wedding,” Laurent offered, now comfortably perched atop Damen. “A full day. We could /explore/ each other in ways the fates have not allowed yet.”

Perhaps the idea would keep Damen in good spirits.

Until then, it sounded as if Laurent might have something that would.

It was quite bold of Damen to suggest. They’d had no real privacy since their arrival here, and the tent was hardly secure. It was also much thinner than Veretian tents - those in Isthima clearly did not intend to block out winter winds. The odds of them being caught were quite high.

But they could give it a try.

In lieu of giving an answer, Laurent mimed stitching his lips closed. They both could use the literal and figurative release, he justified.

* * *

Damen cocked a brow. “You think we will have the chance at a day together after the wedding?” he asked. Damen wasn’t so sure. They would have some sort f event to attend, some kind of tradition or celebration. They would be the two most powerful men in the kingdoms, and every royal in attendance would want a chance to get on their good side.

But Laurent didn’t allow him to elaborate. Damen grinned up at him, adjusting his hips and moving up to his elbows, allowing Laurent to move down his body right where he wanted him.

He pulled the blankets up, situating them over himself and around Laurent’s hips so that anyone entering the tent would have to take a few moments before they worked out hat was going on. That was if Laurent actually stayed quiet.

Damen wasted no time grabbing the oil, slicking his fingers with it.

“Should I prepare you, or do you want me now?” Damen asked quietly, pupils already blown with lust again. Laurent was beautiful in the low morning light, his hair tousled and debauched already.

He knew it was rare to let Laurent mount him immediately, but they didn’t have much time, and Laurent was not so virginal any longer.

* * *

Laurent would /make/ time after their wedding for them. He did not care who he would need to threaten or intimidate to get it, but they /would/ have it. But he’d let Damen just see that when the time came. No need to make promises now.

No, Laurent would need to focus his energy on staying /quiet/.

It went against what he had learned about Damen - that he loved to hear the pleasure he was giving, loved praise and recognition. He loved to hear Laurent was enjoying himself, and Laurent liked to /show/ it. He connected his quiet lovemaking to someone who meant to hide what they were doing, to someone who did not understand their feelings. But he also understood the need to be /discreet/, so he saw no issue in a quick reversion of his responses.

“It /has/ been a while,” Laurent murmured, thinking that, where he would love to just have this moment with Damen, he should be smart about it. They’d also never /had/ sex without Laurent being prepped first, so it seemed like a necessary step to him.

* * *

Damen didn’t need any further instruction. He slicked his fingers with more oil, then warmed it in his hands to make sure Laurent was as comfortable as possible. He sat up to get a better angle, beginning with warm kisses to Laurent’s neck. His skin was still so soft, untarnished by the sand and wind. He still smelled of the baths.

He took his time, gently circling his finger at Laurent’s entrance. Just because they had to be quiet didn’t mean they had to hurry. Damen eased his finger inside, and used another to expertly continue working at the tight ring of muscle.

“Quiet,” he said, grinning.

He worked his other finger next to the first, easing past resistant muscle, soothing and—

“Damen, Laurent, there’s—oh /fuck/.” Nikandros stood at the now-open tent flap, looking equal parts angry and embarrassed. Damen was willing to bet the embarrassment was for Laurent, because this was hardly the first time, nor the worst position Nikandros had ever caught Damen in.

At least Laurent was covered. They hardly looked like they were up to much more than kissing.

“We’re sighted a ship,” Nikandros said after a long sigh. “I thought you would want to know.”

Damen pressed a kiss to Laurent’s neck as he slipped his fingers from him.

“We’ll be out shortly, thank you,” Damen said. “Leave us.”

Nikandros was already gone.

* * *

Laurent was quiet, hiding noises behind a bit lip, behind soft, throaty chuckles. He did just as he’d been told, so he took no responsibility when Nikandros entered and found them.

He missed chamber doors, whether wooden or wrought iron. He missed the need to /knock/ upon entrance.

Laurent huffed, dropped his head to Damen’s shoulders, not at all embarrassed to have been found like this. Yes, it was a more explicit way, but at least he’d been on top of Damen, not spread beneath him, wanton and needy—

Not that there was anything wrong with that.

The mood did shift recognisably with the news Nikandros brought, and Laurent honestly could not say whether or not Damen would want to continue. It had nothing to do with embarrassment, and everything to do with the future. What news did the ship have, /who/ did they have? What would they be returning to? Was there anything left?

Laurent would adjust as needed. As much as he loved this time with Damen and believed him to be in need of it, Laurent would survive if Damen changed his mind.

“Thoughts?” Laurent asked, still poised to take if that was, in fact, what Damen still wanted.

* * *

With the ship bringing news of Ios, Damen couldn’t think about fucking, even though he wanted very much to have any kind of intimacy with Laurent. He kept hoping that Ios was still standing, that it was all just smoke and fire and the palace was still standing, the people of Ios already recovering and rebuilding.

But something twisted in his gut as he thought about it, and he wiped his fingers clean of oil on the blanket.

“I don’t know what to think,” Damen replied softly, not realizing the meaning behind Laurent’s question. He grimaced a little as he softened, shivering once or twice because of it.

“Do you think they’ve brought survivors?” Damen asked, thumbing idly at Laurent’s hips. “How many people do you think could fit on one of those boats? I’ve forgotten…how many did we send?”

Were they even ready for that many people?

“You’ll stay close to me?” Damen asked then. “Things could get chaotic. I don’t want you trampled."

* * *

Decision made, then.

Laurent relaxed, switching his mindset entirely away from his slicked entrance and to the present, to Damen. He had assumed this would be the outcome after all, and he was hardly the kind of person that would be upset about this prioritisation.

He moved himself a little more protectively over Damen, warmed him and tried to add weight to him so as to calm him. He could be so compassionate, could wear himself out on his empathy. Laurent needed him at his best for this, for both of their sakes.

“We should have begun emptying tents of those going to Marlas,” Laurent murmured, thinking there could have been tents open for those who had been rescued.

If anyone had been.

They at least knew of a few tents that had been prepped, and logic said that survivors would not outnumber the tents available. Laurent could imagine, if there was anything to stay for, that some akielons may have already chosen to begin to clean up their home. Again, /if/ there was anything to return to.

“We should dress,” Laurent told Damen with a soft kiss to his forehead, his cheek, the tip of his nose. “I will stay with you, but we should be out there. They will be grateful to see their king.” And he was certain Damen would want to hear the news of his home. Laurent certainly did.

* * *

Damen stole one last kiss before he got out of bed. Two more red chitons sat ready for them, and Damen slipped into his with little difficulty. His feet were still swollen, but he managed to gte his sandals on without too much pain. His thigh throbbed painfully, but it couldn’t be helped. Spreading his legs for Laurent was very much worth the pain.

Once Laurent was dressed, they exited the tent together, where Nikandros stood not far off, talking with several Akielon men.

“Exalted,” he greeted with a nod. “Your Majesty. You’ve just missed Fynn. He has a ship ready to take some Veretians to Marlas.”

His gaze was steady on Laurent.

“He hasn’t left just yet. We’re all waiting to hear about Ios, of course.”

Damen could see the ships on the horizon, still some ways out. It was impossible to tell how the occupants were faring, or what they might have to say. What news they might bring.

“I expected a longer wait,” Nikandros couldn’t help but say.

Damen offered a small smile and looked at Laurent beside him, still leaning on him a bit for support. “Laurent can be very…persuasive? Would that be the word?"

* * *

Damen was limping - Laurent noticed it too late to be if any help as they dressed, to be of any help before he climbed on top of Damen in the bed without even thinking about it. He cursed himself quietly as he tied up his chiton and then moved /right/ to Damen’s side, situating himself under Damen’s arm. His beloved could be stubborn, and Laurent had to step in where he could to keep Damen from hurting himself. Laurent wouldn’t keep him from his people, but he would make sure he stood tall before them.

He greeted Nikandros with a nod, eyes canvassing the beach, wet with rain and still quite grey. The sand was mush beneath their feet, while Laurent did not mind so much as Damen might. Laurent had run much faster through the flames, had dodged then much more efficiently. His feet were not so bad off.

News of the ship must have travelled through the camp, as many had crowded outside, some in front of their tents and some looking out from the shoreline, eager to see what the tide brought in.

Laurent covered his search for Fynn with his general perusing of the beach.

He spotted Cosmas and the woman just a few tents over, the infant smiling as he was bounced in her arms.

Laurent turned back to Damen and Nikandros, swatting at his husband-to-be’s chest. Now was hardly the time for such jokes.

“We should both speak to the departing Veretians,” Laurent decided, speaking as if Nikandros had not just walked in to Damen’s fingers buried in his ass. “We can have them out of the tents and ready to depart to make room for the survivors. They can be a part of the greeting and assistance, but otherwise, out of the way.”

He turned his eyes back to the beach only to /swiftly/ turn them back to Damen as Cosmas was brought over. The woman stood just a few feet away, silently asking Nikandros for permission to move in closer.

They didn’t have time for this.

“Ready physicians and guard. We should be ready for whatever—“

Laurent had no say in this.

Right.

* * *

Damen was quickly distracted by the baby. “Cosmas,” he greeted warmly, stepping away from Laurent to hold the baby in his arms. Cosmas squealed in delight, kicking furiously underneath his swaddle once Damen had him in his arms. Damen pressed fond kisses to his forehead, delighted to see that Cosmas was looking healthier than the previous days.

“He looks well,” Damen said, smiling. The woman nodded happily. He didn’t mean to ignore Laurent, but it was hard to focus on what he was saying when Cosmas was so joyous amidst the chaos.

Nikandros cleared his throat, jarring Damen back to the moment.

“Yes,” he said, though he had no clue what Laurent had just said. “Do as Laurent says. His word is as good as mine.”

Nikandros could not accept that, because it was not the rule. But he nodded anyway and turned around to his men, who dispersed to begin rounding up physicians and guards. Damen was preoccupied with Cosmas, whose hand was wrapped tight around his finger.

“I will visit with him properly later,” Damen decided with a few kisses to Cosmas’s cheeks. “I will see you then, yes?”

Cosmas squeaked at him, and Damen reluctantly handed him off to Deirdre.

He looked over to Laurent, returning to his side. “Shall we go to the beach?” he asked, completely unaware of Laurent’s stated plan.

* * *

At least part of his plan was being enacted.

Laurent watched the guards go, busying himself as he could do as to not be sucked into the Cosmas moment. He had fully recovered from his rejection of Cosmas the day before, but that did not mean he was interested in doing it again.

He could see Damen getting closer to the child, though. Day by day, Damen was pulling his brothers child further and further into royalty. Day after day, moment after moment, he moved further and further from Laurent’s warnings, from understanding the dangers Laurent argued about.

It was difficult to watch.

“To the departing Veretians,” Laurent corrected Damen once he had returned to their duties. “They should hear from the both of us.” Laurent would extend the same curtesy Damen had just extended to him, after all. Not to mention Fynn would undoubtedly be there, and Laurent did not want to walk into that alone.

* * *

“Right, of course,” Damen said, recalling that Laurent must have said that before—it sounded familiar. Nikandros went about gathering the receiving party for the Akielon ships, and Damen started toward the docks, where there was a steady stream of people carrying supplied toward what Damen assumed to be the boat full of Veretians.

Sure enough, he spotted Fynn’s golden hair not long after they started following the supplies. He looked terrible, Damen thought. He had dark circles around his eyes, and his hair was unkempt. His blouse was unbuttoned almost halfway down his chest, and most of those buttons were missing.

“It’s five days at most,” Fynn was saying as they approached. “Thank you for the offer, but we will not need that much sugar. Sal, perhaps, but it isn’t as if we have anything to keep. It’s only five days.”

The person he was speaking to lowered himself in a deep bow and Fynn turned suddenly, momentarily hopeful and then drab again once he realized that /both/ kings were present. He had been hoping to say goodbye to Laurent alone.

“Is there anything you need?” Damen asked as they approached. “Some sleep, perhaps?”

Fynn tried to smile and failed. “Once we are on the water, I’ll sleep. You’ll have to excuse my appearance, i was up all night preparing the ship.”

Damen couldn’t help but feel that was a jab.

“I hope that thing went smoothly?” he asked.

Fynn shrugged. “It was a short timeline. I’m doing my best.” He glanced at Laurent, but only for a second. “I assume you are coming to speak to the council? They’re already inside the ship, having breakfast.”

He didn’t hide his disdain.

* * *

Laurent had given Fynn a last minute effort, but he had clearly made good work of it - work Laurent had hoped for. Getting the Veretians out was key to accepting more Akielons in, and Fynn had done it all...while Laurent slept. His lips had set into a frown over it, but he merely listened as Fynn and Damen /tried/ to cordial back and forth.

It was too much to expect.

“Are they?” Laurent asked, non-enthused and hardly surprised either. His council certainly had not yet to make much of an impression of themselves. Not as his guard had, as other nobles had. Fynn would have his hands full with them in their time apart, but it would only be a short while. Laurent would make sure he did not forget his own country in the wake of caring for Akielos - and he would not leave Fynn to them for too long. He would hate to see what they might try with him in Laurent’s access.

Laurent stepped forward, up onto the gangplank, leading Damen aboard the ship with him. Certainly he could not become ill just from standing on it.

“Fynn,” he called behind him after he’d passed. “Come along. You’ll need to be a part of this.”

And Laurent would need to speak with him about /sleeping/. Immediately.

Sure enough, there his council sat, in the hold most likely meant as a quarters for planning. Laurent could see the maps rolled and stored under the table they’d claimed for breakfast.

“Your Majesty,” Lady Vannes greeted with a nod of her head. “We did not think we would see you until Akielos stood again.”

“If only you would be so lucky,” Laurent responded without even trying to match her honey-sweet tone. “I see you have all made yourselves comfortable. I presume you’ve no interest in assisting with the Akielon efforts, then?”

“We have to see to the Veretian efforts first,” Mathe announced in response - rehearsed. They’d all clearly spoken of this response already. “There is no telling of what has come to pass of our own people. We cannot prioritise the Akielons above our own. It is not our oath.”

“We will, of course, send who we can go assist from Marlas,” Jeurre spoke up, genuine. Honest. “But councillor Mathe is correct. We will need—“

“The Herzog will accompany you as my first advisor,” Laurent interrupted, and it seemed that news had not been anticipated.

“He is not Veretian—“ Cylas spoke up first, bordering on an outrage. “We will not—“

“The Herzog will see that my wishes are seen to by my council until my return to Marlas. He will make only the decisions I have given him, and from there, I will trust his word on what decisions you feel the need to make.”

By the look in his council’s faces, it seemed Laurent had made a string of decisions that his council did not approve of - the first probably bringing them to their enemy country just before it imploded. Or something similar to that.

* * *

Damen did not enjoy this trio, but he said nothing as Laurent led the way up the gangplank. Fynn followed behind, reluctantly, so Damen did his best to have an air of confidence, even though he despised the council. He didn’t see any good in them. They were needy, pompous, and only concerned with themselves. They impeded more than they helped anything.

He couldn’t wait to get rid of them once he and Laurent became united kings.

Fynn didn’t look all that excited about such a prestigious position, and even Damen found himself unnerved that Laurent was putting a Herzog of Kempt in charge of his people. The council would do a horrible job trying to manage on their own, but surely /someone/ in Vere—

No, he supposed there was no one to trust in Vere beyond the two men in this room.

“I have spoken to Laurent at length,” Fynn said, his voice tired. Damen bristled. When, exactly, had that happened? “I will make sure his wishes are followed and assist in the recovery as best I can. I assure you my time as Herzog has well prepared me for my mission here.”

Damen grit his teeth, but directed his anger at the council.

“Are we not trusted?” Lady Vannes accused. “We are the council of Vere. Chosen for our ability to /lead./“

* * *

“And all of you served under my uncle,” Laurent replied plainly, his voice flat, already as finished with this conversation as everyone else was. “Whether you were aware or not, you were actively helping a man try to pilfer a country from its rightful heir - a man who murdered /two/ of your rightful kings. Almost a third.”

Laurent had never outright said it, but now felt as good a time as any. His council needed to be reminded of their place, and it had not always been at his side. He needed something in them that would keep them in check, and a statement such as that would keep them occupied for the week or so he was in Akielos without them.

Jeurre went ashen. Even Vannes looked taken about by how blunt he’d been - Cylas seemed to disapprove at most - but Mathe looked /impressed/.

“Maybe you are not trustworthy at all, or perhaps you are /too/ trusting,” Laurent went on, unconcerned. “I could even say you are just ‘gullible,’ and until we can devise that all together, you will be accompanied by the Herzog with his strict instructions from /your king/.”

Laurent crossed his arms, moved his weight onto his left leg, his stance comfortable but commanding. He took up space, did not shy away in his chiton, and managed to hold the same amount of power he would have fully laced into ornate and royal garb.

He had had days to be tired of his council - specifically with how they’d been acting here, with how their Veretian sensibilities had made them seem selfish, cold, unkind, impersonal. They’d made no effort to meld with Akielos, and when Laurent was sending them alone to what was technically still Akielon land, he had to keep eyes on them.

It was all very frustrating—

And it did not help that he could /feel/ Damen fuming behind him.

“You will lead, as you have been chosen to do,“  
Laurent summarised, “and you will work aside the Herzog to be sure that /my/ desires are met.” He levelled his cool gaze on Vannes.

“I presume you feel capable of that.”

* * *

As usual, Laurent ended all discussion with a verbal lashing, where Damen would have used his fists. Mention of the Regent had his blood boiling, instinctively protective of Laurent. If anyone on the council dared to even hint anything but absolute loyalty to Laurent, Damen would kill them where they stood. He wasn’t afraid to.

The council squirmed under Laurent’s gaze, and Damen was a looming storm behind him.

“Well,” Fynn said, diffusing, “Now that that’s settled, it’s time for Laurent and Damianos to be on their way to meet the ships.”

Damen reached out, gently taking Laurent’s hand in his own. He wanted to get him out of there. They needed to address real problems, not who would play wet nurse for the Veretian council.

But it was Fynn who stepped forward, taking control of the room.

“Meanwhile, we’re going to discuss who will handle what royal entities and calm down concerned about the—“ He froze up for a moment, just a moment. “The wedding. Sorry. Who is going to handle who. I hope you’ve all kept up your communications with the other kingdoms.”

Damen squeezed Laurent’s hand. “Laurent, let’s leave them to it."

* * *

Fynn could and would handle the council. Laurent fully trusted him with the charge, just as he knew Auguste would have if given the chance. Fynn would do right by both Laurent and Vere. Laurent needn’t worry about it.

But he did, all the same. Not for his council, but for Fynn. The Veretian council could be a viper pit when necessary, and though Fynn had grown up with the Veretian culture, Laurent would hate for them to harm him in any way. Not physically - they’d have no chance - but mentally....

Fynn could handle his own.

Laurent certainly hoped this would not be their goodbye, but he and Damen did need to go. Laurent supposed his conversation with Fynn on the shore would have to be enough, and though he wished he could say more, he departed with, “Expect my letters, Herzog,” and left the hold, hand in hand with Damen.

“They grow more difficult by the day,” Laurent muttered as they stepped off the gangplank and back onto the beach. The incoming ship was visible there, and would probably be ashore by the time they’d walked to the place where ships were accepted onto the island. Already, a crowd had begun to form, both near the arriving ship and the departing ship, and Laurent - as promised - stayed close to Damen as they moved. He acknowledged his people as they passed, and he noticed a few of their faces of surprise when they realised for the first time that their king might not be returning with them.

* * *

Fynn couldn’t look at Laurent as he left. Things had changed between them, but it left a heavy weight in his chest to hear Laurent walking away, leaving him to tend to the council. the council who already loathed him, the people who would turn on Laurent the first chance they had. And next time Fynn saw him (because he didn’t think there would be time for a proper goodbye, or that he would even want one at this point).

“Because they sense that after we’re married, they will no longer be needed,” Damen muttered. Then his face changed to a smile, and he greeted Akielons as they made their way to the ships.

He kept Laurent close as they waded through the growing crowd toward where Nikandros stood, looking pensive. The sips were preparing to dock, with crew members tossing rope and yelling out commands. Damen couldn’t read their expressions beyond that they were focused.

“Damianos, Laurent.” Tiberius greeted them both with a nod, finally making his way through the crowd. “Have they made contact yet?”

“Not yet,” Nikandros answered for them, but his mood looked to be worsening.

It took some minuted, but the first ship finally came to a stop, and the gangplanks were set. Damen gave Laurent a nervous glance as the captain appeared, stepping down to meet them. Alone.

Damen stepped forward. “Hedron,” he greeted, clasping the captain’s shoulder. “What news?”

Hedron looked at him, his eyes full of a sorrow Damen had never seen.

“There is nothing left but ash as high as mountain snowfall. Tha palace is nothing but a mound of rock, the city destroyed.”

Damen swallowed hard. “And what about the survivors?”

Hedron kept himself schooled, but Damen could see he was breaking.

“Exalted, there are none,” Hedron said quietly. “There is only ash. No footprints, and the only bodies are charred in the water. Ios…Ios is gone."


	25. Chapter 25

Damen appeared to be in the spirits he could be in, and with the ship approaching ever closer by the moment, Laurent’s thinking had been able to shift off of his own people and onto those Damen worried so much for. /Their/ people.

Laurent took Damen’s hand, gave him something to squeeze and hold as the ship docked, as the gangplank was dropped. He couldn’t imagine what Damen might be thinking - had no idea what he had mentally prepared for—

But Laurent could see what the news would be before the captain had even placed his feet on dry, solid land.

The news was horrifying - and though Laurent did his best to keep his face schooled, he couldn’t help it when his jaw dropped.

Everyone was watching them. All eyes were on /them/ to see their response.

And what a terrible response it was.

All of Ios, it’s people, /gone/. Anyone not here was to be presumed dead, and it took everything Laurent had not to scan the crowd, not to identify just /who/ was not in it.

All of Ios, now rubble...

“We will check again,” Laurent spoke quickly to Damen, simply not accepting the captain’s declaration. “Certainly we can fine someone.” A few familiar faces, a few more hands to help. To think this was all that was left of Ios was...impossible. Laurent could not accept it.

“There must be some.”

* * *

Damen looked away, out to the sea where, beyond the water, his home was nothing more than a pile of ash and rubble. Not a single survivor. the blood drained from him, and the world began to spin. how as he supposed to go forward now? Ios, his home, his everything, was gone. The tombs of his father and mother, his brother, lost.

Hedron shook his head, and the body language began to translate to those gathered. Women began to wail, other fell to their knees.

“I do not mean to sound disagreeable, Your Majesty, but there are none.” Hedron fidgeted with his chiton and cleared his throat. “There seemed to be a liquid fire through parts of the city—similar to molten gold. Several places still had such liquid fire still burning. Everything was still hot, from the sand to the very water. I do not know how any man or beast could have survived.”

Tears welled in Damens eyes. How was he supposed to tell his people this? How was he supposed to lead them when their home was gone?

“Laurent is right,” Damen said quickly. “I need to see for myself. We will bring workers, any strong men we can find who are not needed here. At the very least we will start to rebuild, to bring citizens back home.”

He looked to Nikandros.

“We will tell them we found no survivors, but thet we are returning to start a formal search. We must not give up hope. We can’t.”

He didn’t know what would happen if he lost what little he had left.

* * *

Ios had not been Laurent’s to lose, but he mourned for Damen when the Captain incessantly declared that there was nothing, no one. Laurent would not take it for an answer, neither for himself or for Damen. There had to be someone left. All of that land, all of those buildings, those homes.

Laurent wouldn’t believe it.

The idea of anything molten traveling through the city did give Laurent pause, but what that said to him was that wherever this liquid fire travelled had been unsearchable. That meant there /could/ still be someone out there, maybe stranded, maybe not, but it was the one and only positive idea they had to look to now.

They had so few hands to help…

Laurent cast his eyes back across the beach, watching his own people load onto the ship headed for Marlas. Useless, all of them. A party of nobles come for a wedding, a vacation in Ios. The most capable men he had were his own guard, and he would need time to speak with them about returning to Ios, thought he knew they expected it. Outside of that, the only man they could use would be Fynn—but he would not do that to Damen. He wouldn’t do anything more to Damen than the gods had already done to him.

Laurent squeezed Damen’s hand, kept his expression as controlled as he could while Damen made his on declaration. This was his problem to call the shots on. Laurent could only help. And he would.

* * *

It didn’t escape Damen that the Veretians were making an exit as his own kingdom fell. Yelling at them would be pointless—he knew they had no reason to be upset over a kingdom they had once regarded as an enemy. But the loss of Ios…Damen had no idea how to tabulate that. If Kingsmeet was also destroyed, a whole history of Ios was gone. Damen wasn’t even sure where any other historical documents were stored.

He thanked Hedron for his good work and instructed him to resupply. They were going to follow the Veretian boat back out to sea and return to Ios.

When they reached the base of the dock, Damen made the announcement to the people gathered. He asked wiling men and women to work with Nikandros to return to Ios and make camp on the beaches. It would be dangerous, and there was always the potential of another explosion, but they had no choice.

He felt sick when he was done speaking.

“Tiberius,” he called, his voice a little weak. “Laurent and I will need proper clothing. Boots, preferably. And you have to spare.”

“Of course,” Tiberius said, looking drained of color. “Follow me. I have a few horses we may use to go to the palace.”

Damen couldn’t look at anyone, his body too wracked with grief. but he kept his head high, his face mostly schooled as he walked with Laurent up the beach. He tried his best not to limp, but it was difficult with the pain in his feet and leg.

Once they broke through the back of the crowd of mourners, Damen saw his chance and took it. He pushed past Laurent, rounding the corner of a small stable. A gasping, alien sound escaped him and he crashed to his knees in the rocky dirt. His hands caught him and he let out a low sound of deep pain, collapsing over his thighs as he broke into sobs.

* * *

Laurent stood by Damen’s side as he addressed his people, even if many would have liked him to have taken a step back. He kept himself planted there, supportive as he could be, a rock for Damen to lean on if he needed it. He could not care if his own face had turned cold, if he looked distant or unfocused, not when his entire focus was on Damen’s tone, his body language - anything Laurent could catch of distress out of the corner of his eye.

When Damen finished, Laurent kissed his hand before turning away with him, offering himself up to help Damen in whatever way possible, to keep him from limping after a moment of such strength. They had nearly made it away from anyone still willing to look at them when Damen tore off from him, leaving Laurent and Tiberius behind.

Tiberius had the sense to stay back, and it seemed for a moment that he might move to stop Laurent from going after Damen, but he knew better before he tried. In fact, his mind changed so quickly from pulling Laurent to /pushing/ Laurent forward when he did not move right away to help or console Damen, but he had the wherewithal to keep comment to himself.

Laurent hesitated for only a few seconds, long enough to let Damen have that first moment of despair, before he /calmly/ rounded the corner, knelt down next to Damen, and set his hand on his shoulder. He would not crowd him - not yet. If Damen wanted Laurent closer, he would pull him as he always did. Until then, Laurent would give him a bit of space.

It was difficult to watch, but Laurent sat there, quietly, speechless and grasping for anything to say with Damen like this. There weren’t words, nothing he felt he could do but be there for Damen. All of his life, his people, his home, his memories...

* * *

Damen simply cried. Like a child, right there on the ground. It was as if his family was dying a second time, miles away on the coast, and he was stuck here playing king. Tears leaked from his face in a steady stream, soaking the earth below. He didn’t look up when Laurent approached—couldn’t even if he wanted to.

His fingers curled in the sand as he made horrible noises, unable to stop himself. Since the explosion his grief had been contained inside himself, holding out hope that Ios would be waiting for him when they returned.

He sat there for some time, his forehead pressed to the grass as he cried. He cried until his eyes burned, until his face was so bloated that sand was sticking to his cheeks.

When he sat back on his heels, his face itched from the grit and saltwater.

“What am I supposed to do?” he croaked. “What is a king without his home?”

His hands fell useless in his lap as he sniffled, trying and failing to blink the tears away.

“It’s gone. Even if there are survivors, my home is gone—everything is gone and buried."

* * *

Laurent was relieved when Damen finally spoke, when he finally gave Laurent an in on helping with this. There had been nothing Laurent could do up to that point but sit with Damen, sit with him and touch his shoulder, and let him mourn.

Already, fierce protection was starting to set into Laurent. This was a pain a young him knew, to have lost everything, and Laurent knew how that could leave someone. At the height of his kingship, in the face of adversity, Damen would need protecting, whether he knew it or not. This was a prime span of time for someone to take advantage of his kindness, of his rule. Laurent would not allow it, and he was almost grateful Fynn would be gone if just to keep Laurent from distraction.

He would take care of Damen through this. Until he felt like a king again.

“You are king of all of Akielos,” Laurent tried to reason at first, still on shaky legs when it came to emotion despite their time together. “You have lost your home, yes, but all of your people would flock to your side to help you rebuild it. You are still their king, and they still see you as such.”

It felt like the right time to hug Damen, to pull him in close, let Damen have his shoulder, his neck, anything to hide in, anything he needed. Laurent worked his fingers into Damen’s dark curls, held him close, planted little kisses on the crown of his head.

He /would/ take care of Damen through this.

* * *

Damen sucked up more sobs as Laurent moved closer, then buried his face into Laurent’s shoulder when he felt warm arms around him. Any thought of weakness was drained out of him as he let himself be held. He wished he could hide himself in Laurent, the way a child could be fully enveloped in the arms of a parent. The crying started fresh, and he leaned into his betrothed, taking whatever comfort he could find.

When he was finally finished, his body was limp with exhaustion. He nuzzled into Laurent where he rested his cheek on Laurent’s shoulder, just watching the shadows dance along the side of the stable. A soft wind blew over them, chilling Damen’s cheeks as he sniffled.

“I can’t stay here,” he whispered, pulling back to wipe his eyes with the backs of his hands. “We have to go.”

He forced himself to stand on shaking legs, his feet and thigh protesting all of the movement. He held a hand out to Laurent, trembling.

“Let’s get ready,” he said. “We have to go to Ios."

* * *

Laurent wanted to get back to Ios just as much as Damianos did. He wanted to see for himself what had happened, wanted to see for himself that there was no one. He was so, /so/ convinced that there had to be something and that he would be the one to find it.

And he wanted to get Damen home. He wanted Damen to really see what was there for him, molten fire be damned. He wanted Damen to see not the land, but the people who came to help, the people he still had, wanted to remind him that Akielos as a whole was his home. Finding anything from his past might also be helpful at this point. Laurent /wanted/ Damen back in Ios.

But he could have done without the ship that it took to get there.

They were at least given a proper ship this time, with quarters for just the two of them. Laurent had stressed the importance of having Damen alone for a while, to help him with a mourning that would not just /pass/. Cosmas and Deidre were in quarters next to theirs - Laurents attempt at giving Damen some closure there.

Laurent had taken the time to do what he could on the deck of the ship, assisted only by a small concoction that Paschal had given him. It had been meant to put him to sleep through the journey, but Laurent was much to stubborn for that. He wanted to give Damen a few minutes to settle, especially after having to put on such a brave face for his people. Laurent would have wanted just as much alone time, but he did understand that was not how Damen’s brain would work for long.

“Visit him often,” Laurent told Nikandros, leaning against the door to the captains quarters to keep himself upright. “He will need you as much as he needs me during this.”

It was not as if Nikandros would be busied with babysitting Fynn this go around.

* * *

Damen went still the moment Laurent left him alone. He wasn’t much better before Laurent left, his eyes vacant and staring off into nothing. He couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. Ios was gone. Of course he mourned his people, but none of it compared to losing the palace—and Damen knew they would not find that had survived.

The palace was the place he could always find strength, warmth, remembrance. He could walk the halls and remember his days as a child, the way his father’s sandals slapped against the marble as he chased after hi. He remember sneaking through court with Kastor, chasing girls and all of the adventures that came with that.

Now all of it was gone.

Nikandros visited him shortly after Laurent left, and they mourned together for a time. Nikandros was particularly upset, and Damen assured him that none of this was his fault. He had done far more for Akielos than even its king. Damen didn’t know how he would have survived this long without Nikandros as a trustworthy aid.

When Nikandros left for his duties, Damen found himself curled up in a sleeping hammock, swaying with the ship. The sickness he felt was not from the waves—it was as if he was in cold water, each limb going numb from it.

He wanted to go home, but it was destroyed.

* * *

Laurent waited until Nikandros ducked out before he returned to Damen’s side, having not made it far across the ship, as if moving might break the resolve he had with Paschal’s concoction. Luckily, the entrance to the captain’s quarters left Laurent at a pretty pivotal placement so that most on the ship could see him.

Unlike last time, the ship only carried Akielon men - soldiers, farmers, husbands who had left their wives and children behind to rebuild their home, fathers who had brought their capable children with them. No one was looking to or for the Veretian Prince for anything. When he slipped into the quarters, he doubted anyone even noticed.

“Water,” Laurent said in greeting to Damen, handing over the fresh water Paschal has very much given him to drink. Laurent didn’t need it. He was too afraid to put anything in his mouth or stomach. “Drink it, please.” Damen clearly needed it more than he did, and the hammock put him at just the height that Laurent could see it right in his face. He’d been crying. His face was reddened, puffy, his eyes swollen and glassy.

Nikandros had looked the same, beneath his set jaw and determined glance forward when he’d left.

“You look leagues and leagues away,” Laurent commented next, softer this time, but he did not move closer to Damen, did not move to join him. For one, Laurent didn’t know how. On top of that, Laurent did not know that he would be able to fight the drug if he was horizontal. “Come back to me.” He thumbed Damen’s cheek a bit sluggishly. “Wherever you are, it’s not the place for you.”

* * *

Damen pushed the water away without looking. He didn’t want any water. His eye ached from crying, his lungs hurt from the force of his sobs. Everything hurt in all ways, mental and physical. The swaying of the ship didn’t help, even though the hammock prevented most of the unease.

He thought about slipping into the sea. Letting the water swallow him. He could have let it happen last time, attached to the mast. All he had to do was let go and the black saltwater would have sucked him down to the sea floor.

Laurent’s thumb at his cheek startled him, but didn’t completely jar Damen from his stupor. the sea still tempted him.

“Leave me alone,” he murmured, because he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to be touched. He didn’t want to feel anything.

“My home is gone. We’re sailing to nothing."

* * *

Laurent stopped what he was doing completely, froze, beguiled, and took an obedient step back. It was new - well, new to Laurent since having had Damen as his partner. Damen was, as Laurent fondly thought of him, a ridiculously loyal and codependent idiot. They loved each other dearly and, usually, it was Laurent working to be closer to him, to fit the mould that Damen’s overeager love and affection created. Laurent had worked so hard, so very slowly, to get to a point where /he/ was the one no longer pushing—

And then Damen pushed him.

He knew it wasn’t personal, knew it came from a place of mourning, but it certainly was a first for him. He couldn’t say he was prepared to hear that, and he genuinely did not know how to respond.

So, Laurent did what made sense to him. He did what Damen asked him to do all the time. He climbed over the wall he’d just started instinctively building and just /asked/.

“Do you really want me to leave you be?”

If Damen asked him to, he would. He wouldn’t take it personally - once he had the time to think about it. Laurent was someone who valued alone time. To think, to reflect, to reason. If Damen wanted that, he would give it.

But something told him he’d be abandoning Damen if he did, and he would /not/ do that.

He would just...do what was asked of him.

* * *

Damen didn’t want to decide anything. He wasn’t even sure what he was feeling. It was an uncomfortable type of numbness that radiated from his chest, enveloping him in a special kind of quiet anguish.

“No,” he said, but still didn’t look over. He wanted Laurent in his arms, but he didn’t want to talk. He only knew these hammocks fit two people because soldiers talked of the difficulty of fucking in them. But Damen just wanted Laurent to be there.

Damen cleared his throat, but didn’t speak again. He just swayed in his hammock, eyes glassed over.

Above them, men adjusted sails and called out to each other, keeping busy. He heard Nikandros among it all, a faint voice among dozens of others.

All of them doing all of this work to return to a pile of rubble. They all had homes they could rebuild. Damen’s had a toppled palace, his family’s legacy destroyed by the gods. He had wanted to raise children in those halls. To walk hand in hand with Laurent as a married couple, as two kings, as lovers, as parents.

Now all of that was gone.

* * *

Laurent had not known what to expect as an answer to his question, but he had to say ‘No’ was what he had truly been hoping for. It at least narrowed his choice of responses and actions.

“Then move over,” Laurent instructed, much more confidently, knowing that - no matter how Damen felt now - this event had not shaken him of who he truly was. Laurent still knew what this Damen wanted, even if Damen himself did not.

And so he would get suffocating closeness, Lauren’t love, and anything Laurent could do while he was still awake.

As he suspected, lying down horizontally did Laurent no favors. Hell, getting in the hammock had been a struggle, and inside, he truly had meant suffocatingly close. He did not know if this was /too/ close, or if he was safe from vomiting on Damen on any wave, but he was there now, and he did not know that getting out of the hammock was ever an option.

The counteractive swaying might have been helping…

“Look at me,” Laurent murmured quietly, tipping Damen’s chin with his thumb and forefinger - gently. He would not force. “We will scour /everything/ there is to scour, Damianos. We’ll go anywhere you’d like, and we /will/ rebuild Ios. Together.” He kissed Damen softly, but Laurent had to pull away and just /rest/ for a second. His eye were heavy, his pupils dilated to hell, and there was still sluggishness in his voice that he had almost pushed through seamlessly. No one had been this close to him before this moment.

“I love you, and you have me. You have Nikandros, you have your Kyros, you have /my/ guard, my soldiers, all of our combined allies.” Laurent always tried to find reason, thought it helped with emotion. “We will make it new, However you desire. We will push through this."

* * *

Damen didn’t feel part of himself when Laurent crawled into the hammock. He moved and adjusted so that Laurent could fit in with him, but his mind wasn’t all there. Laurent smelled of salt spray and something minty…Damen slowly recognized it as the concoction used to settle the stomach. Right. Laurent got seasick.

Damen reluctantly looked over when asked, but it was hard to focus his vision this close. For once Laurent’s mouth didn’t look enticing, his gaze didn’t look so demure.

New. Damen didn’t want new. He wanted everyone he loved, all of his memories still tucked inside the walls. He wanted the old books he never read, the comfort of his bedchamber, his baths. He didn’t know if he could bear seeing it in ruins.

But he accepted the kiss, though he didn’t do much to return it.

“You should rest,” Damen replied reflexively. He didn’t notice the dilated pupils, but the heavy weight of Laurent against his chest gave him a small clue as to what was happening. He didn’t get much seasickness, but his stomach was empty, and he had no intention of eating while on a ship.

However, the touch was nice. He found himself resting his chin on Laurent’s head, then moved to his cheek. It was nice, even though he wasn’t sure how he was feeling. Not good, that much was clear. They still had a far journey and he wasn’t any closer to coming to terms with his loss.

Nikandros had to work under this. Nikandro still had a duty to fulfill. Damen just had to tell people to build things. Damen would almost prefer to take orders from someone, to not have to think about anything.

He didn’t want to push through anything. He just wanted to go home, but he didn’t have one to return to.

* * *

Laurent fought it as long as he could, but there was only so much he could do when so comfortably rested against Damen, level with his heartbeat, swaying and influenced as he was. The rain pattering down from above didn’t help either, even when paired with the sickening lap of the sea.

He didn’t see what he could do right now. He could not magically bring back Ios for Damen. He could not bring back his home, his halls, his memories, his people. Laurent prided himself in his abilities to solve most problems, but he was no match for this. All he could do was be there and /understand/ this for Damen, keep him safe while his mind and heart healed.

It could take weeks.

It could take years.

All the same, Laurent would accept it. Damen had, strangely, helped him through losing everything, even if it was /years/ later. Laurent could return that affection, that time, that love. He couldn’t bring his bike back to him, but they could make a new one together.

When Laurent was awake.

His body did go heavy atop Damen, and he did end up resting, lost to a /deep/ sleep that, as intended, kept him from being sick. But he’d felt comfortable enough to do it, felt like a shield around Damen that would keep anything or anyone from hurting him - even if Laurent could only cover so much of Damens body.

When he did wake again, it was to the clipped sounds from rue ships deck as Nikandros entered, mostly alone, save for the infant in his arms. He closed the door and approached - Laurent might dare to say - /carefully/. /Gently/! Were the circumstances different, along with his cargo, Laurent might have laughed at Nikandros trying to do anything /softly/.

“Not much of a position to hold a child,” Nikandros commented, taking in Laurent and Damen, all limbs and cloth in the hammock. Cosmas seemed to notice Damen at least, and the little grubby, grabby hands started towards him. It was a good play by Nikandros, but not one Laurent was too fond of happening /again/.

* * *

Damen didn’t sleep, but his gaze turned a bit more peaceful when Laurent dropped into a slumber on top of him. The sea seemed further away, the cries of his suffering heart muffled by Laurent’s warm body. He knew he should feel lucky that Laurent hadn’t been harmed. He did feel fortunate, but that all seemed trivial compared to the loss of his home. Of his people. He had no idea how they would even count all of the dead.

When Nikandros entered, Damen didn’t feel his usual tug of the heartstrings he usually did at the sight of Cosmas, though he did melt a little when the child so clearly wanted to be near him. Cosmas had lost his mother, Damen was the closest thing to family that he had left.

Damen motioned for Nikandros to bring him closer. “I have seen women hold children in much less accommodating positions,” he murmured.

Nikandros transferred Cosmas down to Damen, who accepted him into a one-armed cradle so that Cosmas could take up the side of his chest that Laurent wasn’t resting on.

Perhaps they were a family. Perhaps they /could/ be.

Damen pressed his lips to Cosmas’s soft hair, inhaling the soft scent only babies carried.

Cosmas gurgled happily, tugging at one of Damen’s curls and shoving a fistful of it in his mouth like it was made of sugar.

“We are close,” Nikandros said. ‘But the rain has thickened, so we must move slowly until we get our bearings. Hedron warned us that the seabeds have shifted.”

Damen wasn't listening, he was too focused on Cosmas, on the one thing they had managed to save.

* * *

Laurent had his thought about this child, but for the moment, he was so shocked by Cosmas’ presence bringing /something/ out of Damen, that he couldn’t be his usual disapproving self about it. He did feel a slight pang of jealousy, but it was nothing to have a complex about. Cosmas was family, a sign of the past - however difficult that past was. He wished the baby had not been shoved directly in his face, but...Damen was interacting, talking, showing signs of /life/.

Laurent could accept it for the moment.

He was much too tired to fight anyway.

“Don’t eat that,” Laurent did mutter to the child as he removed Damen’s hair from his mouth, his grubby little fist. It had been risky, could have started a whole crying and screaming situation, but instead, it ended with Cosmas’ fist wrapped around Laurent’s finger.

Laurent scrunched his nose.

“Strong grip,” Nikandros commented, motioning to his armour, to the leather strip tassels that hung from one of his shoulders. “He’s managed to rip out three of these. Best of luck retrieving your finger, your highness.”

Nikandros was /trying/. Laurent had never seen him in such a way, but he did not stick around much longer for Laurent to comment on it. Best to give them some time, Nikandros thought.

* * *

Damen adored the sight of Comas interacting with Laurent in such a positive way. The icy despair around his heart started to melt away as he held the two beings he loved most. Of course, Nikandros was also in that arena, but he had taken his exit. Very well played indeed.

“You won’t rip off Laurent’s finger, will you?” Damen asked, a small smile coming to his lips.

Cosmas squeaked with laughter in response, shaking his little fists. Damen tipped his head forward to kiss Cosmas’s round cheek. Cosmas let out a shrill cry of joy.

“If only we could all have your happiness,” Damen chuckled, but it was sad.

This time when he kissed Cosmas’s cheek, tears rolled down his cheeks, hot and salty. His eyes were already swollen, his cheeks already burning from having cried so much before.

Perhaps bringing Cosmas had been a mistake.

* * *

Cosmas’ cries were shrill, filled with an unbridled joy Laurent had only ever seen in young children. Had he his finger, he would have plugged his ears from hearing it, as it did nothing to help with his own current state, but he was not so lucky.

Laurent couldn’t even say the squeals were worth it after the second one. The first two had seemingly charmed Damen, but by the third, Damen seemed unmoved again, at least towards the idea of positivity. Laurent heard the wet sniffle, felt the tears in his hair.

Well, it seemed as if jealousy was no longer an issue. The baby was no better at this than Laurent.

Unfortunately, Cosmas must have had something in him that recognised it, for once wetness hit /his/ face from Damen’s tears, his joyful little smile dropped into an exaggerated frown and big, crocodile tears formed in his round, blue eyes.

Laurent could not have that.

“Please don’t—“ Laurent started, tilting his head up to kiss Damen’s jaw. “He’s just going to match what you do.”

* * *

“Oh,” Damen said softly. Cosmas looked very much on the verge of crying, and Damen couldn’t have that. He brushed his lips to Cosmas’s temple and shushed him quietly, adjusting him so that he could rest against his chest, his two boys.

Damen then nuzzled Laurent, desperately trying to keep his tears at bay. He knew he should be happy. He knew he should be thankful.

“I love you very much,” he whispered against Laurent’s forehead. He turned, carefully adjusting himselfin the hammock so thathe was on his side (more or less) and Cosmas was laid between them. the baby was delighted by this change, and promptly grabbed at Laurent’s nose with his chubby hand.

“I can’t wait for us to have our own,” Damen said, his voice soft. He still wanted a baby. In fact, he wanted one now more than ever, but Cosmas would always hold a special place in his heart.

And it was a step in the right direction to think about the future rather than the past.

* * *

It almost felt like warfare for Damen to bring up an heir /now/. It was incredibly sly, whether consciously or not, for there was nothing Laurent could or would say against it at a time like this.

No, Laurent would go out of his way to make sure Damen had something to look forward to, to not break him down and ruin anymore than had already been ruined for him. Laurent wouldn’t argue an heir right now because he wouldn’t /do/ that to Damen at a time like this, and a part of Damen had to know that, had to know he would be exploiting that. Laurent would have been impressed if he wasn’t so inconvenienced by it.

He just happened to be in the greatest luck when Damen said it. Cosmas had him by the nose, which gave Laurent an excuse of simply being too busy to hear it.

“I do not know where your hands have been,” Laurent hissed at Cosmas, who seemed to think any emotion was funny on Laurent. Cosmas’ little sniffles turned into him giggling at Laurent in seconds as the young king /desperately/ tried to turn his face away in the confines of the hammock.

It was not working for him.

Cosmas had dimples so eerily similar to Damen’s every time he smiled...

“Stop it,” Laurent hissed again as Cosmas went for Laurent’s lashes next, giggling as Laurent responded with shakes of his head, little swat to the baby’s hand. It was like a game to Cosmas, it seemed, though Laurent doubted the infant had any sort of understanding of the concept of a _game_.

Cosmas seemed to be enjoying it all the same.

* * *

Damen hadn’t seen a sight so warming since all of this began. Laurent playing with Cosmas, the three of them snuggled up and safe in a hammock back to Ios. For a moment the pain of losing his home was dulled, and Damen let out a chuckle. Cosmas looked thrilled by Laurent’s frustration, and Damen found it hilarious that the king of Vere was so flustered by a child.

“He wants to play,” Damen said, gently tickling Cosmas’s side. Cosmas giggled, slapping at Damen’s hands while still holding tight to Laurent’s finger.

He pressed a kiss to Cosmas’s forehead, glancing outside the hammock when a particularly large swell rocked the ship. They were getting closer, even with the boat at a crawling pace.

“Don’t pull at Laurent’s hair,” Damen scolded when Cosmas caught blond in his fingers. He gently tugged the baby’s hand away, and Cosmas let out a warning noise.

He wondered if their own child would bring him the same feeling of lightness in such a difficult time.

* * *

Laurent did not see how this was a game worth playing. As his face was prodded at, his hair tugged, his lashes flicked hands on him that he had /no/ idea where they had been. Laurent wasn’t in the mood. Even if he had been at his full cognizance, out of the haze of the mixture that still wanted him to sleep, Laurent was not so sure he would have been.

But up close and trapped with the child, Laurent could see the gleanings to both Kastor and Jokaste. Theomedes’ genes were much stronger, with Cosmas’ familiar eyes, skin, dimples, hair, and nose, but Jokaste’s eyes were unmistakable, blue and bright, her full lips and that little upturn of a permanent smirk…

And Damen’s line’s attitude, it seemed.

Laurent managed a smile at the little warning noise, even if he did fear it would end in a screech.

Damen was chuckling when only moments ago he’d asked Laurent to leave. Damen had some brightness back in him when moments ago, Laurent almost thought he would never see those dimples again.

He didn’t understand it, didnt know that he liked it…

But it was something.

It did cross Laurent’s mind that Cosmas’ pull to him may be the fact that he looked similarly to Jokaste, that the blonde was familiar, the blue eyes, the pale skin—

He certainly did not like that.

Laurent let Cosmas pull his hair the next time, did not swat him away when he took a handful of it.

* * *

Nikandros entered just as Cosmas started to get sleepy, still clinging to a fistful of Laurent’s hair. He didn’t press, but Damen handed Cosmas back, knowing they were close to the shore. The boat groaned ominously as they neared, and Damen carefully got to his feet once Nikandros had taken the child back to Deirdre.

“You should rest a bit longer,” Damen murmured, smoothing back Laurent’s hair. “i want to walk the deck.”

But when he tried to leave, Jord stopped him.

“Nikandros said not to allow you any further until we dock,” Jord said.

Damen’s first instinct was to fight, but he realized that Nikandros was probably trying to protect him. If they were close to shore, he would have time to see the destruction and change their course.

The fact that Nikandros thought it would be that bad frightened him, but he nodded reluctantly and returned to his quarters.

“I’ve been told to stay below,” he murmured. “I can only imagine why."

* * *

Resting did not seem like a terrible idea. Laurent did not know the inner workings of ships, did not understand what may harken the end of a voyage of any length. So far as he knew, he still had time.

He got the idea that that may not be the case when Damen crawled out of the hammock, made for the deck.

For once in his life, Laurent managed no grace when he clawed his way out of the hammock, moved onto his legs that were still not accustomed to the sea. He caught himself on one the support beams, ready to right himself and head out the door with Damen—

But then Damen was heading back towards him, having been…./told/ he could not go up on deck.

“You are the king,” Laurent started instinctively, responding first to the offense of men taking such power over their king...before taking a moment to think just why that decision had been made.

“But perhaps /you/ should rest while you can,” Laurent moved in quickly, close to his Veretian cunning as ever, able to change the game at a moment’s notice as it might benefit him. And he would benefit greatly from Damen being calm right now. He had only just seen him with a smile on his face again. He moved towards Damen, wrapped his arms around Damen’s waist, both for support and just to be close to him, to entice him to just /stay/.

“Ios will have our attention for days, and as you are, I know you’ll not rest if it means you can be helping.” Laurent kissed Damen’s jaw. “There is nothing to do now. Come back and rest for a bit longer."

* * *

Damen’s eyes went distant as Laurent crossed to him. e was tempted to look out the small window, to see what his home looked like, just to spite Nikandros. But the ugly feeling in his stomach only got worse as he stood there, ad he knew he shouldn’t. He had to set foot on Ios today, if only to show his people that they had to face this.

Laurent’s touch was nice, but Damen couldn’t help but feel that he was being placated. Like Laurent somehow knew what was out there, like he was in on the secret.

Even so, he gave Laurent absent kisses to his temple as he stared at the whitewash of the window. When he snapped from his doze, he gave Laurent a squeeze and reluctantly made his way back to the hammock, holding it still for Laurent to ease into.

“Who knew that seawater makes lightfooted Laurent of Vere lose his coordination,” Damen tease, but it only had a hint of mirth in it. He crawled his way into the hammock and wrapped his arms around his betrothed again, this time burying his face into Laurent’s neck as best he could.

“Do you think you could sleep?” he asked. “I’m not so sure I can."

* * *

“Ah, yes,” Laurent began in a very similar tone, following Damen back towards the hammock where he could get off his said ‘light feet. “My rigorous training in standing upright has been foiled this day.”

He held Damen’s wrist as he climbed back into the hammock, as gracefully as one could in a rocking sling of fabric on a rocking boat. He did move extra carefully, mindful of Damen’s thigh as he climbed in this time, moving consciously to stay away from it as he could.

Soon, they were tangled together again, Laurent acting as an anchor for Damen when all he wanted to be was a rock. He could feel that he was holding Damen back from something as opposed to grounding him in something, and where it was bothersome, he had to understand they’d banished Damen below deck for a reason.

“I think if I wanted to sleep, I would be gone to this world in a second.” Laurent kissed Damen’s forehead, toyed with the cuff around his wrist as he chose honesty over placating Damen, as he had admittedly been doing. “Paschal has effectively poisoned me, I think. I might have asked for a weaker dosage had I known what to expect.”

“I want to be here. For you. And I want to be awake for you,” Laurent went on, acutely aware that he was talking too much in an attempt to keep Damen occupied - to placate, /still/. “But I want you to rest. Whatever is out there will you have you for /days/. You will be no help to your people if you are exhausted, Damianos.”

* * *

Damen finally decided to listen. The thought of the horrors that awaited him scared him to death, but the though of facing them while exhausted sounded even worse. So he kissed at Laurent’s neck and nuzzled there. grateful to have him.

“I couldn’t face this without you,” he whispered. “Thank you for…everything.”

Because without Laurent, he had no hope of surviving any of this. Had he lost the man he loved, he wasn’t sure that even Cosmas could have kept him living. That kind of heartbreak would be like finding out Laurent never loved him at all and had planned to marry Fynn all along—multiplied by ten.

Damen did finally fall asleep once he allowed himself to, but it didn’t last long. Less than an hour later, he was woken by the sound of men calling out above, trying to lower the anchor.

Damen groaned, his mind buzzing painfully with having been woken up after such a short time.

“Must we go now?” he muttered, not completely awake. “Surely they can wait…"

* * *

Laurent, after taking a slightly more defensive angle over Damen, did also get his rest in the silent moments of /waiting/. Exhaustion won out over worry, fear, and everything in between. Damen falling to rest allowed Laurent to rest for what he knew would be one of the last times in the immediate future, and with Damen as relaxed as he could be under him, Laurent slept for—

Approximately a halved hour.

Had they gone above deck, they would have known how close they were, but without the notice, they’d both put themselves in a place of discomfort. Laurent pushed his hand over his face, back into his hair, stretched as he could within the hammock as he attempted to expel the sleep out of him. It was difficult, wrapped in Damen’s warmth, the soft, red fabric of his chiton, but Laurent managed to save face long enough muddle through. He opened his eyes, pushed up as he could in the hammock.

The commotion above grew, chattering and calling all about, until there was a sudden loud splash that had to have been the anchor dropping.

They were home.

And Laurent could imagine they were needed.

“My love,” Laurent whispered, hoping Damen still felt for Laurent as he had before his nap even after he forced him to wake. Perhaps this could help him get Damen to rest later. “They would want to see you. We should...assess what we are face. Together.”

A kiss could only be so motivating, but Laurent tried it all the same, coaxing Damen to rise to face whatever they’d weighed anchor to.

* * *

Damen’s eyes felt puffy and itchy—his /face/ felt puffy and itchy. He groaned as Laurent’s lips pressed to his own. This certainly didn’t feel soft enough to be their bed, and Laurent was completely on top of him, smothering him with his body in a way that wasn’t much like Laurent.

“Fine,” he muttered, and the moment he said it, he remembered.

Damen’s heart started to beat faster and he cleared his throat. “Yes,” he corrected, his voice still rough from sleep. “Let’s go.”

It took longer than he wanted it to to get out of the hammock, but at least he was already wearing presentable clothing. He fixed his hair as best he could, but his eyes were hollow by the time he turned to Laurent for a final approval.

“Do I look ready to face my destroyed home?” Damen asked softly, already fighting back tears. he wasn’t sure he could face this, even with Laurent, but he knew he had no choice.

* * *

Laurent did his best to give some sort of response to Damen’s comment, something that might match it being a joke, but Laurent’s smile was just sad, filled with a sympathy - and his own sort of empathy - that could not be escaped.

“I don’t know that there is a face for that,” he offered quietly, reaching up to thumb just under Damen’s eyes, brushing away the beginnings of tears. “But you look like their king, like someone who /can/ face their destroyed home and, in time, return it to its glory.”

But Laurent spoke before he had /seen/ Ios.

He took Damen’s hand in his own, more sure footed now than he’d been able to be before. The boat still rocked, especially with no docking to tie it down to, but Laurent managed not to keel over as they stepped out onto the dock—

And into the smoke.

It smelled /awfully/. Laurent had not even been aware of it until they’d pulled open the door, ready to face whatever they had to, and were hit with a waft of sulphuric burning, a haze of stinking smoke, water littered with wood and stone, clothing, belongings, and people.

Silence had engulfed the boat as everyone took it in - really /everyone/. They were horrified, and they’d not even touched land yet. They would have to take trips in the row boats, small group by small group, would have to physically drag themselves towards the flattened, rubbled city.

Laurent had seen battle fields less grim.


End file.
